


Damsel Not So In Distress

by T_with_Smutley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feral Behavior, Graphic Description, Mild Kink, My First Smut, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Some Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_with_Smutley/pseuds/T_with_Smutley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has been put on a special assignment by the Wizengamot. More like trying to get her out of their wizards' hats. Who she has been assigned to surprises her, but not as much as how he acts towards her. Also, why is she acting so odd?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am hoping for a slow and gradual build for this fic, peppered with some humor here and there. Hope you like it! Also, if received well I will try to update as much as I can. I have a pretty full schedule and do this simply for fun.

Four years. Four long years since they had left Hogwarts. Four years since the Dark Lord had been eradicated. Four years since the Wizarding world had been liberated from the black shroud Voldemort had wrapped them in. Hermione sighed as she stared out over London from her flat that she shared with Ginny reminiscing over the fact. 

It wasn't like she wanted another dark lord to appear or another war to fearfully grip their lives, but she wanted something, anything to pull her from the mundane, monotonous tasks of everyday responsible adulthood.

Yes, Hermione Granger, the most brilliant witch of her year and one of the heroes from the Battle at Hogwarts…. was bored. 

She stirred her hot cinnamon tea in abject misery. She was intelligent, busy, and driven, damn it all! Surely one would think her hefty workload would do something to keep her from being restless. However, it had done nothing to smother the insufferable tedium of her long work hours. 

She had single-handedly reformed the laws for Magical Creatures. She had completely reconstructed the laws surrounding the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was presently pushing several pieces of legislation through the works. 

She knew the law books better than some of the buffoons that had dared to cross her in the courts. She practically wrote them!

Her areas of expertise were the rights and freedoms of Werewolves and House Elves to honor the memory of Remus and Dobby and continue to care for Remus’ son, Teddy, who had wolf like tendencies, in her own way. As of late, she had been poking and prodding the Wizengamot like the stubborn cattle that they were to get a particularly convoluted bill passed that would help keep the Department of Law Enforcement from bursting down the doors of Werewolves, pulling them into court, and wrongfully accusing them of attacking non-lupine individuals. 

She loved her career and she was the best at it! However, she wanted more. What more entailed she couldn't elaborate. It was maddening and mildly tiresome. 

She had not always been so restless and unsatisfied. 

Hermione’s bubble of bliss burst very shortly after the victory at Hogwarts. She had gone back to school to finish her last year and had gone on to tackle the shrewdest of minds in the Ministry of Magic. She was content and pleased with the direction her life was going. However, the constant flow of work and the sheer, crushing stress from the major Reform of the Wizarding world had put a severe strain on Ron’s and her relationship. A few short months after she had started at the Ministry, Ron and her had mutually parted ways. They remained the best of friends and were even closer on some levels, but understood that it could never be. While she loved and cared for Ronald dearly, there was simply too much to ever maintain a stable, healthy love between them. 

Hermione was forlorn some days about her decision to split from Ron, but most days she was content and irrevocably steadfast in the decision. Her melancholy mood swings, while few as they may be, were more as a result of loneliness than necessarily missing the red-haired wizard. She was too strong and independent of a woman to let their divide keep her down for long. Her life was a constant drive to better their world.

However, there was one aspect that she missed about their relationship apart from the companionship. As much as it shamed her and she would admit it to no one, she had not indulged in physical pleasure since Ron, and, although she wasn't a floozy, she missed that warm, rush of heated ardor with a vengeance. And while Ron was very gratifying, she had secretly yearned for darker impulses than their tame lovemaking would allow. She had tried to act on the less intense of these impulses once by clawing his back, losing herself in fervor and Ron had not received it well. She still remembered not being able to release any of that base desire for a week or two after that due to Ron’s reservations in her actions. She had gotten too frustrated and snapped at one of her unsuspecting employees. 

Hermione wanted to utterly burn as she lost herself in the oblivion of ecstasy. She wanted to be positively consumed by the flames of her partner's carnal desire. She wanted to be enraptured in a libidinous storm that already threatened to rage within her. Not even her best friend and roommate knew of her lascivious nature. If she had any say in it, Ginny would never know of her salacious yearnings. She might give the poor redhead a heart attack if she knew what kinds of lewd acts the perverse witch sought after. Book worms truly were the fabled “closet freaks”.

All of the repressed sexual frustration left her feeling like a tightly coiled spring that continued to increase its tension exponentially with each passing day. If she didn't find an outlet for her sexual frustrations within the foreseeable future, she was going to explode. Or at least, she felt like she was going to explode.

She made a face at her tea, blaming the drink for all of her problems. 

This is how Ginny found her best friend. She giggled to herself at the image Hermione made, looking more like a sad puppy than one of the magical world's most distinguished witch. However, giggling out loud at her friend's expense would probably snap the taut bowstring that was Hermione. 

“Mornin’, ‘Mione,” Ginny said, effectively pulling her sullen friend from her musings as well as resulting in a jump when Ginny broke the silence. Ginny noted with amusement that Hermione had drawn her wand from who knows where in the anticipation of protecting herself. 

“Oh, Gin, it's just you! You scared me! We need to get you a bell or something to alert me when you are behind me.” 

Lowering her wand, Hermione admonished herself for being not paying enough attention to her surroundings and brandishing her wand at her friend. 

“So jumpy today, Hermione. What's got your wand in a knot?”

“Oh, I don't know, Ginny. Those tossers at the Wizengamot are driving me loony. I guess I tire of the same ol’, same ol’. I need to shake things up, you know, do something different. Or maybe I will do what I do best and go look up new cases in the Records Department. I’m so unpredictable, ya know. Maybe I’m feeling particularly adventurous today, I might just take a different route to get there.”

Ginny, smiled and shook her head in exasperation at her friend’s facetious ramble. Did this witch ever have off button when it came to her job? It was like she was married to it. 

“Hermione, it’s Saturday. Get your head out of work! Want to go wander Diagon Alley for a bit? Maybe get ice cream to get your mind off of things? Also, Hexes Reck Us is performing live at the Weyward Sisters’ Cauldron tonight. Fancy going there?” 

Ginny looked on in anticipation, but tried to appear aloof. She had actually been waiting for the right spur of the moment to ask her seemingly austere comrade if they could go see one of her more favored local bands.

Hermione mulled it over in her head for a few moments before answering. Naturally, Ginny would invite her brother and The-Boy-Who-Lived, even if neither of them dated the men anymore. Ginny was in a very similar situation as Hermione. The stress and pressures of the Reform had gotten the better of Ginny and Harry’s relationship as well. They parted ways right before Ron and Hermione did. Like Hermione and Ron, they remained close friends, but could not see a way to make their relationship work around their issues.

Even though she did not feel particularly like carousing and minutely ached for a girls night instead, it had been awhile since she had seen the band perform. 

“Sure, Gin.”

The redhead grinned and dashed off to invite the men leaving Hermione to, once again, listlessly stare out over London.

When Ginny came back, skidding to a halt in front of the kitchen table, she did a small dance to express her glee. 

“The boys are coming; we are to meet them by the Leaky Cauldron around 4. Oh, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen Hexes Reck Us in ages! I can’t wait to hear ‘Double, Double Toil and Trouble’,” Ginny gushed. Her enthusiasm was so contagious that Hermione cracked a smile. Maybe this was good, maybe this is what she needed to break the monotony.

Ginny snagged Hermione’s hand and Hermione braced for that ever familiar pull behind her navel as they apparated to the middle of Diagon Alley. It was not one of Hermione’s favorite ways of traveling as it always made her feel like a fish caught on a hook, but it was certainly the fastest and most convenient. Gaining their bearings after the apparition, they sauntered over to Christof’s Creamery for their mid-summer afternoon dessert.

Halfway into her melting treat, Hermione suspended mid-lick. She had a very ominous feeling like she was being watched. Ginny blabbing on about the history of the band they were to see that evening, even though Hermione had read their official biography seventeen times, took no notice of the eerie notion her companion witch was getting. She did not turn her head, but tried to casually glance around their vicinity so as not to arouse suspicions that she was aware she was being watched. 

“-ione. Hermione, hello? Earth to Hermione! Anyone in there?” Ginny’s voice cut into her observations. Hermione gave her head a little shake.

“What? What is it, Ginny?”

“I just told you your ice cream is halfway up your arm you are spacing out so bad. What is it?”

Her friend looked at her, concern lightly puckering her features. 

“Nothing, I was just thinking about what I need to do when I get back into the office.”

“‘Mione, I told you already it’s Saturday, get your bloody head out of the scrolls!”

Hermione’s fib fooled her friend and Ginny started back up this time commenting on how nice the weather was, that she needed to go get new robes, and isn’t that guy reading the Daily Prophet across the street attractive. 

Hermione grunted her affirmations, and kept a wary eye floating about, but whatever gave her the creeps before seemed to have vanished as if it were never there to begin with. Hermione gave the slightest of shrugs and wiped off her now sticky, sugar-coated arm from the mess her dessert had made. Her attention diverted back fully to Ginny and their conversations. More like a one-sided monologue for how much Hermione was not talking, but she was contented to let the woman ramble on. 

Her stomach gave a small, queer lurch, but Hermione dismissed it as indigestion. She rubbed her mid-section absentmindedly.

Unbeknownst to Hermione and Ginny, the owner of the ice cream shop, Christof, was getting interrogated inside by a couple of wizards who had apparated from the Department of Law Enforcement. 

~~~~~~

Around early evening two mildly irate witches stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron, waiting on their forever tardy friends to arrive. Ginny kept sighing and shifting from foot to foot. Hermione just stared out down the street, looking at nothing and thinking, for once, about nothing in particular. 

A resounding crack announced their friends’ arrival. Unraveling out of their swirling vortexes, two tall wizards stepped out onto the cobble-stone street. The two seemed to be in a bit of a banter. Ginny and Hermione glanced at each other, both giggling when they rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“No way, the Chudley Cannons have Tremblebow and Gregondar this year. They far outfly Middleton and Harver.”

“Please, Ron, don’t be barmy. Vratsa Vultures easily outrank the Chudley Cannons. They’d wipe the floor with their arses.”

“No one said that in the World Cup in last year when the Vultures played the Cannons. You can stuff it, ‘Arry, because as far as I see it Chudley Cannons are going to win against the Vultures this year.”

“Ron, you idiot, everyone was saying that last year. And, last I heard of their scrimmage matches for this year… Mate, I would not bet on them this year. Root for the Tornados.”

“Argh! Just because your old flame has been a fan of them since the beginning of time doesn’t mean the Tornados are a good team. They are shite and you know it.”

“Cho liking the Tornados has nothing to do with my decision to -”

Hermione’s stomach decided to end the debate by unleashing a loud, ungodly growl. Her friends ceased their bickering and they all looked at her with amused exasperation. 

A flush creeped up on Hermione’s face. Ron smirked. 

“‘Guess someone's hungry.”

“I am not!” Her stomach grumbled in defiance, as if it wanted to prove her wrong. Hermione glowered at her abdomen.

“Your stomach says otherwise, Hermione,” Harry teased. She playfully shoved the dark haired boy in response.

“Why are you so hungry? We had lunch, you had tea, and we just had ice cream. It's only half passed four…. Which reminds me, you two are late,” Ginny scolded, whipping her head to scowl at the guys. Ginny had abandoned her quest in interrogating Hermione in favor of chastising the two irked males.

“Withdraw the claws, Gin. Harry and I had to go by Gringotts.”

“You should have said so in your owl so we didn't have to wonder where you two tossers were!”

“Alright, Alright, easy, Gi-,” Hermione’s belly interjected again. 

Odd… I’ve eaten a little more than my usual today. I shouldn’t be hungry… Hermione inwardly grew concerned over the increase in appetite.

“Cripes, Hermione! Let's go get you something to eat so I don't have to hear your growling! First, Ginny, and now Hermione’s stomach. What's next? Is Harry’s scar going to reprimand me like Mum too?”

Ginny giggled and linked arms with the abashed, blushing witch. 

“C’mon, ‘Mione, let's find something to tame the beast and get Ron to quit complaining.”

“I am not complaining!”

“Lies don't become you, Ronald.”

“So when I say something it's complaining, but when Hermione stomach says something we have to go take care of it?” Ron playfully argued. Both of the women rolled their eyes. 

“Exactly, you git. Let's go.” 

Twenty minutes and five orders later, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all gaped at the amount of food on the table. Two steaks, two large pieces of chicken, a filet of fish, five baskets of chips, and a massive jug of water.

“Umm, Hermione…. are you alright?” Ron gave a slight jump when she dove into her gratuitous amount of food. In all the years Ron had known his ex-girlfriend, he had never seen her so voracious. 

“You must be pregnant or something, because, blimey, this is a ridiculous amount of food.” Harry concurred. He held back a rise of bile as she devoured her food. Hermione grimaced at Harry’s tactless comment. Harry gave a half-shrug and apologized.

Ginny just stared in awe as Hermione worked her way around the plates. Mouth slightly ajar and hand partially raised to her lips. Once or twice she lifted her hand about to comment or question her beloved friend, but changed her mind.

She's acting a little like…. Ginny shook her head of the thought. He had been infected and it was more than apparent that Hermione had not. Hadn’t she? 

The commotion of the ravaging woman had drawn the looks of a few of the patrons of the old tavern. One middle-aged wizard looked on in wonderment and another older woman’s lip curled in mild disgust. It actually made for quite a comical sight.

“I-don't-understand it. I'm famished-for-some-reason,” Hermione uttered between mouthfuls of food. The normally dainty and refined eater had cast aside her good manners as she tore into a particularly juicy piece of a steak with her teeth. Her dining utensils had all been forgotten. They laid beside her elbows as clean and shiny as if they had just come out of their packaging.

The ravenous witch paused to take a swig of her water. Frowning at the table, Ginny was concerned over her best friend. Since when did she ever have this kind of appetite? She grew up with all sorts of bottomless pits, but she had never seen any of her brothers put away so much food, let alone Hermione. 

“Hermione, you ready to go?” Ginny asked carefully a little while later, placing a hand gingerly on the bushy haired woman's shoulder. She did not want to get her hand mixed up with the rest of the food. The gorging witch might just take a bite out of her if she didn’t watch her step. Hermione lifted up her head and nodded in self-conscious affirmation as she swallowed the last of her bewildering meal. 

“Bloody hell, ‘Mione. I need to enter you into some eating contests,” teased Ron giving her a cheeky grin though he was just as apprehensive as the rest. The said woman gave him a scowl. “And I've seen some eating in my day.”

“Thanks, Ron. That’s real classy.”

“You are going to talk about classy when you inhaled your steak like a pack of wolves?”

“You are the one that eats like a giant, Ron. Never mind you seeing. I had to look at your stuffed mug on almost a daily basis” Ginny retorted, coming to the witch’s aid and effectively earning a glare from her brother. Ron’s ears had started to go red as he opened his mouth to argue back.

The embarrassed Hermione grinned sheepishly. 

“We are going to be late if we don’t leave now,” she stammered, interrupting Ron and trying to draw attention away from her appetite. She got up from the table as a clue to the rest that she didn't want to talk about her abrupt increase in hunger. Ginny jumped up, completely forgetting her concern over her friend as she expressed her eagerness. 

As they turned to walk out, Hermione’s misgivings melted away, prompted by the younger woman’s zeal. Carelessly throwing an arm over Ginny’s shoulder, Hermione chuckled at her.

A pair of eyes followed the group with vague disinterest as they left the restaurant. Then the stranger inhaled deeply taking in the most enticing scent that had wafted past his nose. Hands shot out to grip the table as his body reacted involuntarily, albeit intensely, to the aroma. Fangs burst through his gums and claws like daggers ripped out from his fingertips. A low growl, too low for human ears issued forth deep within his throat. The sound was dark and possessive.

Just as he was about to lose his mind, the feeling was over just as quick as it had begun. He ran his fingers over his normal sized teeth and poked at the tips of his fingers. He looked at the door after the young adults with a very baffled countenance. 

No one had witnessed the convulsions as their attention was directed toward the departing group. The man gave his head a shake and continued with his meal after a moment of apprehension.


	2. Chapter 2

Arriving at Weyward Sisters’ Cauldron, Ginny practically pranced over to the bar to order drinks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled over to a high-top to sit at while they waited.

Weyward Sisters’ Cauldron was typically a dark, quiet pub. It only ever held a ruckus when local gigs played or when the nearby teens chose to drop by. Weyward Sisters’ could only be described in one word, amiable. Mismatching chairs and tables were situated around the establishment. An old, well-worn stone hearth sat nestled in the corner. Several stools bordered the bar. The walls and columns had a myriad of dissimilar decor that had a flow to it somehow. All in all, the pub reminded Hermione of the Burrow. Warm, cozy, inviting, and open to the weary wizard or witch seeking a small bit of peace. Hermione lips twitched in a slight smile as she sunk into her chair with contentment. She often sought out the pub when she wanted to get lost in a good book.

“So, Hermione, I didn’t ask Gin because I get the distinct feeling she would curse me if I didn’t know. Who is playing tonight?” queried Harry.

 

“They are an all-female rock group from Liverpool. I am more likely to listen to anarcho-punk than their genre, but they have a beat I can bounce to.”

 

“Hermione, you would listen to political music.”

 

“Meaning what?”

 

“Oh, nothing. Continue.” Harry grinned at her too innocently. She narrowed her eyes, but obliged.

 

As Hermione described Hexes Reck Us, she abruptly had the notion she was being regarded again. There was a great deal more people than per the usual, so she could not figure out who was watching her so closely.

The presence did not appear to be hostile, but the witch was still on her guard more than normal. Actually, the impression she received was more that of one who was inquisitive with sensuous undertones, causing her heart to flutter a little within her chest. It also unnerved her that she could discern this much about the one watching her when her disposition was to be more oblivious. Quick-witted with things came at her directly, but oblivious to indirect feelings otherwise.

However, not to cause her friends alarm, she did not say anything. Choosing instead to continue her detailed account of the local female rock group. Ron, though he had gone steady with her, did not notice her minute change in demeanor. Being more perceptive out of the two, Harry noted her wariness immediately. He said nothing, but gazed at her until Ron walked away to help Ginny carry the drinks that were precariously held in her small arms.

“Seriously, Hermione, are you feeling well? You’ve been acting rather odd since we met up with you and Ginny.”

Knowing full and well she was not going to get a lie passed those keen, green eyes of his, she let out a nervous breath.

“Harry, I’m getting a really peculiar feeling that I’m being watched. It happened while Ginny and I were at the ice cream shop and I am getting it again. As far as my appetite is concerned...Don’t ask about the food, I have absolutely no idea why I was that hungry. I feel alright, it’s just been such a weird day.” As soon as she mentioned the weird feeling, it vanished. Whomever it was that was eying her must have realized she knew.

Not entirely convinced, Harry let it pass for the moment as Ron and Ginny approached the table. Ginny set the pints down carefully while Ron accidentally sloshed some on a man sitting at a lower table next to them. That earned him a glare from the beastly man who looked like he could snap Ron like a twig. Ron rapidly smoothed the situation over by giving him his pint, which seemed to appease the robust, confrontational male, and went going back up to the bar for another.

As Ron sat back down with his new pint, the female rock band sauntered up to the stage. Dressed in predominantly black, gray, and yellow purposely tattered dresses, heavy, dark makeup and lace up witch boots, the three women looked like the witches stereotyped in old fairy tales Muggles would tell their children.

“What’s up, Weyward Sisters?!” the frontwoman yelled into the microphone. A chorus of elated replies answered her. Ginny hopped up and down in her seat, among those who exclaimed when prompted. The rest of the three smirked and shook their heads at their redhead companion. She jumped out of her chair and ran to the front.

As the band started to play, the eerie feeling crept slowly back into Hermione’s conscious. She tried to shake off the nagging feeling as she downed her drink and rushed up to the front with Ginny, leaving the men at the table to attempt to resume on their dispute over Quidditch teams in the loud bar.

It was very crowded near the front. The two young witches were almost packed like a can of sardines. This is why when Hermione felt a light touch at the small of her back, she did not immediately turn around. They were practically touching everyone around them, so she thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t until she felt a wet sensation at the juncture of her neck and jaw that she whipped her head as far as it would go to look behind her. No one was there. Apart from the people who were crammed up against her, she had twisted her head too fast for anyone to have licked her and not have her catch them in the act of pulling away.

Her heart began to thrum beneath her breastbone. She felt an old, familiar twinge from somewhere in her nether regions. Pupils dilating, she scanned the area. Absentmindedly, she reached up amid the hot, pushing and shoving bodies to the place where she thought she had gotten licked. Her eyes widened in shock and mild horror when she discovered what was there.

Nothing! There was absolutely no dampness there to be had. Was she going out of her mind? Surely not! She had distinctly felt a hot, damp tongue glide across her skin. So why wasn’t there any liquid affirming what she had thought happened?

Pulling back from the throng of people, Hermione walked to the bar in a stupor to get another drink. The bushy-haired woman didn’t indulge in spirits often, but she felt it might soothe her frayed nerves.

“Nick, scotch on the rocks.” The barkeep started when he realized who was ordering. It was a rare sight to see the small witch order a drink from him. She had always held friendly conversations with him, but rarely ever ordered alcohol. However, since she looked like she had seen a ghost Nick made the choice to indulge her. Nodding to her to confirm that he heard, he quickly made it.

Hermione swirled the drink in the glass tumbler when she received it, pondering over what had just occurred. She was worried,  but no one saw the hungry look in her eyes as she looked down into the amber liquid.

_ Merlin’s beard there's something seriously wrong with me.  Thinking up of someone licking me to ease the pain of loneliness.   _ She brooded tragically.  _ How pathetic can someone be?! Still… that felt way too vivid not to be real. Wait, what am I even saying?! Of course it wasn’t real! _

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?”

The question made her jump and she whirled around to face her old comrade. Harry looked at her with acute concern, his scar slightly crinkled as his eyebrows drew together in concern over his best friend.

“Someone…  **_licked_ ** me, Harry.”

“What? They licked you?” Hermione nodded her affirmation.

 

“Why would someone lick you? Tell them to bugger off. Or if they don’t leave you, just tell them who you are friends with. I’m sure the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice against Voldemort would intimidate them at least a little bit.”

 

Hermione gave him a weird look.

 

"I mean, unless if you liked it...” Harry suddenly got really quiet and awkward at the prospect. They had known each other for quite sometime, but his feelings for the woman were entirely sisterly. He withheld no romantic notions for the female in front of him.

“No, Harry.” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed to give him a small scowl. “You don’t understand. They licked me and when I turned around to tell them to get lost, no one was there.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the guys right behind you. One gave me the creeps and looked real sleezy.” Nose wrinkling as he thought about the bloke.

“That’s just it. I would have caught them pulling away, but no one was pulling away from my neck…”

Harry stared at her like she had grown two heads.

“Hermione… remember when we were Second Years and you said hearing things no one else can hear is not a good thing? Well, Maybe that needs to be applied to this…”

“Or maybe someone did lick my neck and I just turned my head too slow to see them.” Even as she said it she even knew it wasn’t true. She didn't even tell him that there was not even any evidence to signify that she had,  in fact, had a tongue lap at her. That alone gave her the chills and worried her more than anything. Having someone lick her was one thing, she could handle that easy with a simple wordless hex. Imagining someone licking her put a whole new crazy and terrifying twist on her world as she saw it.

 

What was also scary to her was her body’s reaction to the non-existent lick. Why was she suddenly getting a little hot under cloak? Was her body so hypersensitive from not being touched that she was imagining and getting aroused by it?

“Well, as long as you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you?” She apprehensively nodded her head. Again, not entirely at ease with her answer, he stood there turning over a decision in his head before shrugging.

“Ron and I are over at the high-top if you get uncomfortable being over here, alright?” Again she provided a wordless nod.

She turned back to her drink and eyed it with mild distaste. She really did not care for scotch too much, but she wanted a strong enough drink to put her mind, and beating heart at rest.

Needing to distract herself, Hermione struck up a conversation with the bartender while he cleaned the glasses. Gradually, she felt herself unwind her taut muscles and she relaxed with her elbow up on the bar, cheek leaning against her palm. She began to ask questions about the origins of his patrons. Figuring  the poor, inebriated non-human creatures would tell their woes to the bartender, Hermione felt he was a good brain to pick on how such beings were treated. She had done this many times, but Nick was pleasant and patient enough with her to provide the information that she so desperately sought.

The night was winding down and Hexes Reck Us was ending their last song. As Harry, Ron, and Ginny started to converge where Hermione was fervently talking with the bartender, Hermione heard a low, vaguely suggestive growl in her ear. She simultaneously felt a caress across her cheek.

Caught unawares, the witch shrieked, dropping the glass. It shattered on the wooden floor below her. Against her will, she felt a swift pang in the pit of her stomach that both shocked and shamed her. Could it be that that action…  _ excited  _ her?! 

 

She could have also sworn she heard an almost inaudible, sadistic chuckle as she reacted.

Hermione had leaped out of her stool in her alarm and had almost fallen out when a pair of strong hands caught her under her armpits.

“Bollocks! Hermione! What happened?” Ron grunted as he straightened her up. His flustered ex-girlfriend shot him an exasperated glare. Rifling around in her clutch, she yanked out the correct amount of change with a smidge too much vigor and violence. She then slammed money down for the drink and to pay for the shattered glass.

“OH, nevermind. Let’s just go home! I’m at my wit’s end! Someone’s playing a cruel joke and I will have no more of it!”

She stomped off out of the bar quicker than any of them could say “hippogriff”. Whomever was doing this to her needed to stop! This was harassment! She would not be touched without her say so, ever!

The nudge of the ache down below made her falter in her resolve. A blush had begun to grace her features and try as she might to quell it, she felt a heat wave that had nothing to do with the season. Her strides quickened and she smacked her cheeks, allowing the pain to pull her out of her tempered arduous haze.

The thing that unnerved her the most was that there didn’t seem to be a body attached to these incidents. Was she going loony or was something really happening to her? And Merlin’s beard! Why was she getting hot and bothered over nothing?!

It was only then she discovered that she had left her friends behind in her furious wake. Ceasing her march, she stood and waited for them to catch up to her.

“I tell you what, you should have been a drill sergeant, ‘Mione.”

“You are just out of shape, Ronald. Eating one too many of your Mum’s scones.” She teased, some of her humor coming back. Ron gave her a grin that spoke relief to see that she was okay to joke.

“Out of shape, my arse. You left all of us behind and Ginny’s even a professional athlete!”

“Only because I was holding back for you lazy gits.” Both the wizards gasped in mock outrage.

“Hey, now, just because you have a regular workout routine doesn’t mean that you can make fun of our lack of exercise. Some of us actually have real jobs to be concerned with.”

Ginny’s eyes flamed at that comment. Joke or not, her occupation had always been a sore spot in the family. 

“Want to say that again, Ronald? You better watch your back or I’ll turn your favorite candy into a bunch of live spiders.” Ron paled.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know I would. I grew up with you bloody gits not to back up my threats.” Ginny brandished her wand menacingly as if to back up her words.

Ron grumbled and his lip curled. Kicking at the ground, he remained quiet.

“Aw, leave him, Gin.”

“Yeah, leave him, Gin.”

“Ron, shut up.”

“Wait, you were just on my side, ‘Mione! What gives?!”

“Yeah, and I now have half a mind to hex you if you don't cease, Ronald.”

“That's not nice, Granger.”

“Never pretended to be, Weasley”

“Now, now, children.  Play nicely.”

“Get stuffed, Harry.”

The group made their way back home back down Diagon alley badgering each other, but all at ease.

It was quite dark when the quartet decided to part ways for the night in front of the Leaky Cauldron. After giving Harry and Ron a quick squeeze, the girls grasped each other's hands firmly in anticipation of the Apparition.

 

~~~~~~~~~

Crookshanks had been dozing on Hermione’s bed when he heard the audible, loud crack echo down through the hall. Jumping in fright and recognition, he dashed out to the kitchen, looking for his master. He was starving! At least that's what he thought.

Mewling incessantly, Crookshanks began striding towards Hermione. About a foot from where she was he halted his gait and cocked his head this way and that.

“Aw, Crookshanks, I'm so sorry! I forgot to leave out food before we left.”

“I’m sure he was fine, Hermione. Actually, he could do with a few less meals.” To further prove her point, Ginny walked over and poked the cat’s rotund belly that stuck out generously on both sides of his body.

“Oh, you! What does everyone have against my fur baby?” Ginny gave her a look of mock exasperation.

“Hermione, that cat’s a menace.”

“He is not! He’s the sweetest, smartest kitty in the world!” Hermione talking in baby-talk to the cat.

“You and that bloody cat.” Ginny waited on a retort as she baited the witch but heard none.  Turning around she was surprised to discover her roommate and the cat in an intense staring contest. Neither moved and both poised as if about to give chase.

The feline gave a curious sound, something in between a hiss and a mewling in acknowledgement of his owner clearly at odds with wanting to go to his master and wanting to take a swipe at her. He gave another small snarl and dashed off back down the hall.

“Crookshanks! Come back here! I just want to love on you!” Hermione ran after her retreating pet, waving her arms none too gracefully. Ginny stared at her friend’s retreating back, dumbfounded. The cat had  **always** come to her.

 

What in the world is going on with the young witch?

~~~~~~~

The next day was much like the evening before for Hermione sans the bizarre physical contacts and the weird feeling like she was being scrutinized.

 

Her gluttony had come back immeasurably. She had woken to her stomach grumbling loudly. As a means to mollify her groaning abdomen, she had almost cleaned out their pantry.

 

Noting with moderate distress that she would have to replenish their food stocks, she made her way to the door. In most cases she would go to the muggle supermarket that was a block away, but given her peculiar behavior and happenings to her over the past day she did not want to run the risk of a muggle inspecting too closely.

 

Smoothly apparating while still mid-stride, she walked with haste to the wizarding supermarket.

Upon heedlessly crossing the threshold, she almost ran into an elderly witch who was teetering with a rather large cauldron and an array of ingredients.

 

“Oh! Sorry! So sorry!”

 

“I do say, slow down, young lass!” the elder scolded as she regained her footing. She was about to reprimand her some more when she paused and thought otherwise. She shifted to get a better grip on her purchases and rapidly exited the premises.

 

“Sor-,“ Hermione had begun, but didn’t finish. Not because the woman wouldn’t hear her, but right at that moment an overwhelming feeling came over her as she tried to register the sheer amount of odors that assaulted her nose.

 

_ Merlin’s scraggly beard! What is that god-awful stench?!  _ Hermione’s nostrils flared and wrinkled in aversion.  _ They should clean this place more often!  _ Trying not to appear rude, she brought up a hand to her nose, but did not pinch it as she grabbed a buggy. Trying to make her selection and get out of there, she completely missed the faintly glowing, yellow eyes following her throughout the store, crinkled in wicked amusement. Lowering their lids at half-mast, a rumble akin to a purr came out softly.

 

Almost sagging in relief to be rid of the repugnant smell, Hermione sank into the bench near the store’s doors with all of her bags draping down her arms.

 

A small chuckle pulled her out of her momentary inertia.

 

Looking up she saw a mass of red hair.

 

“’Llo, Mrs. Weasley.”

 

“Hello, dear, just got done with your shopping? You look like you ran a marathon with those heavy bags.”

 

“I certainly do feel like I ran a marathon with these bags. Oh, and watch out, if you are going in there  there’s an odd smell. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something awful and putrid.”

 

“Maybe it’s their new shipment of food?”

 

“I certainly do not want to eat anything that smells that foul.” Hermione wrinkled her nose again.

The portly witch chuckled again.

 

“Noted. Anyway, unrelated, but have you seen my blasted son and daughter? Those two were supposed to meet me here to help me buy ingredients for a birthday cake for Harry. And what do you know, they are late. I think they forgot their kind, sweet mother.”

 

Hermione smiled warmly at the older woman.

 

“I haven’t seen Ron since last night. Ginny left before I got out of my room this morning. She did not tell me where she was going, but I’m sure they did not forget about you, Mrs. Weasley.” Mrs. Weasley huffed and a strand of rebellious hair floated out of her face.

 

“I swear, my children are going to be the death of me.” Molly did a double take at Hermione’s face and her face fell.

 

“My dear, your eyes look… unusual. Have you looked into a mirror today?” Not wanting to alarm or insult the young woman, Mrs. Weasley pulled out a small mirror out of her purse and handed it to Hermione.

 

Hermione had to suppress the scream that threatened to escape her and nearly dropped the mirror as she glanced at her reflection. Her eyes had changed colors somehow. They were still very brown, but there was a glowing yellow tint that gave her the creeps.

 

She had not looked at her reflection considering her appetite had been the only thing on her mind since she awoke. Her hair had been roughly brushed and shoved into a hair piece to keep it out of her face in the summer heat. Her clothes had a slight disheveled look as she had not anticipated on seeing anyone of importance that day.

 

She turned the mirror away for a moment trying to calm her nerves and collect herself. As she did something caught her eye, without turning her head, she looked to the side and saw the edge of a black cloak and a wisp of what looked like blonde hair as the person whipped around the corner, sensing her regard. She stared after the person with a little curiosity.

 

Looking back at the mirror, Hermione blinked in bewilderment as her brown eyes stared back her.

Mrs. Weasley, who had watched her closely, did not remark on Hermione’s abnormal behavior. The poor girl had blanched so dramatically that the older witch thought she was going to faint.

 

_ How weird, I know she has not been attacked at all, but she is reminding me a lot of... him… _ Molly mused.

 

“Oh, well, I need to get going if I am to have this cake ready, are you going to be alright, deary? You are looking rather peaky.” Molly eyed her, not wanting to leave, but wanting to allow the girl some room to breathe. Molly kept a mental note to discuss Hermione with Ginny when she would finally see her.

 

“Yeah… Yes, Mrs. Weasley, I am completely fine. Fantastic, really!” Trying to assuage Molly’s concerns. Swallowing with a dry mouth, she gave a tight hug to the motherly woman and set off with her groceries back home.

 

She just hoped that the food would last until next week.

 

~~~~~~~

 

After waking, once again, to a complaining belly, Hermione sated her seemingly unrelenting hunger with a breakfast for champions. Wolfing down six eggs, half a plate of bacon and sausage, and almost half a loaf of bread for toast, Hermione, readied herself for a long day at work.

 

She had an irresistible inclination to wear black and red. Answering to that siren, she pulled on a black, fitted, pencil skirt and a dark, crimson blouse with long, bell like sleeves. She adorned a long ebony witch’s cloak with a red lining. Situated on her feet were small black pumps with straps fastened across her ankles. Getting her hair to work with her, she managed to tame her bushy locks into big,luxurious curls. She finished her attire with a small, magically expanding drawstring clutch. Taking a quick glance in the mirror, she did not realize how racy her wardrobe was even giving their conservative overtones. She smiled in approval at the slightly suggestive outfit.

 

Striding to the kitchen, she shoved as much food as she could into her clutch.

 

A few moments later, Hermione grabbed a fist full of Floo Powder, before crouching in their small hearth.

 

“Ministry of Magic!” She spoke clearly while throwing down the powder. Green flames engulfed her body, the tongues licking at her face and arms that pressed against her sides.

 

~~~~~~

 

“Morning, Ms. Granger!” “Good Morrow, Ms. Granger.” “Good Morning, Hermione!” Hermione tilted her head in acknowledgement to each greeting as she made her way to the courtrooms for the first hearing of the day. She was hoping her new found appetite did not decide to make its presence known while she was trying to persuade the Wizengamot.

 

“Daily Prophet! Get your Daily Prophet! Big news, Christo-.” Hermione waltzed on by the paperboy as he shouted today’s headlines. She paid him no heed, she needed to get to the lifts so she would not be late. She would probably get the Daily Prophet after her long day.

 

Upon entering the lift, she greeted her long-time favorite co-worker.

 

“Morning, Luna.”

 

“It is a very good morning, isn’t it? There’s not a lot of Wrackspurts about making everyone fuzzy.” Hermione grinned at her old friend. She was so off-beat, but Hermione had grown accustomed to the odd witch. She found her presence entertaining.

 

“I’m sure you’d be the one to tell me if there were.” The blonde witch turned to her with a weird contraption wrapped around her head.

 

“Probably. There’s something different about your aura today. Nargles are not stealing your stuff are they?”

 

“No, no, they aren’t. I’ve just got a full plate this morning.”

 

Luna nodded sagely.

 

“Maybe you're attracting Wrackspurts.” Hermione stifled a giggle. Luna said such odd things.

 

~~~~~~

 

Walking through the doors of the courtroom, Hermione did not stop to look at the defense as she put her belongings down. She needed to prepare to duke it out until dawn if she had to with this pack of wolves.

 

They were ruthless and unmerciful, but unfortunately for them, so was Hermione. She had caused even the foulest and most callous lawyers to weep. She felt no regret as they should have known what they were getting themselves into going to court with her as the opponent.

 

The defendant gave her a droll look. Waiting patiently for her to notice who she was defending. They smirked as she continued to blatantly ignoring them.

 

“Is the plantiff ready?” The judge was a tall, thin and shrewd man. Hermione privately admired the man as he normally dealt with her on a regular basis, but she would never let him know as things like that tended to go to his head rather quickly. The opposition affirmed they were ready.

 

“Is the defense ready?”

 

“The defense is ready.” Hermione felt eyes bore into her back. Taking a quick peek, she hastily made a double take. Mouth going agape for a split second, she quickly spun her head back to the judge without missing a beat. She did not let her shock get in the way of her work. Her defendant grinned impishly, clearly amused at her brief discomfiture.

 

“Please present your argument.”

 

“Very well.” She half turned to the jury, ensuring to make eye contact with every single one. It was one of her intimidation tactics.

 

“Werewolves have been the victims of various hate-crimes ranging from something as harmless as verbal bullying to as serious as murder. If a werewolf takes their daily Wolfsbane potion, they are very docile on their full moons.”

 

“What if they forget to take their Wolfsbane potion?” a wizard from the jury interrupted.

 

“If a werewolf forgets to take their daily dose, there is other precautions and actions we can take. Knocking down the doors of the innocent Werewolves is certainly uncalled for.”

 

“What if we have reasonable cause to knock down their door.”

 

“If they had, indeed, injured someone and it was entirely accidental and without intent against the non-lupine person, then they will be dealt with in a case of negligence. It will be considered tort law. They will be held responsible given that laws will be, and should have been put in place making the potion more accessible to ingest on a regular, and often daily, routine.”

 

“So you are suggesting a form of insurance for these metamorphic persons?”

 

“Yes and no. My intention was not to come into this courtroom promoting insurance for those who have this condition. At least not at the present moment. My intent was, and has been since I walked in here this morning, to push to have guiltless individuals, such as the defendant, from having property damage to their home, and libel and slander against their image. Insurance may go hand in hand with this, but it was certainly not my main objective.”

 

“So tell me why are you so sympathetic to these creatures of lower intelligence?”

 

“I beg your pardon? That is not relevant to the case at hand as well as it is pretentious of you to assume these lupine beings are of lower intellect.”

 

The gavel raped upon the wood.

 

“Order! Order! Mr. Brookwood, I will not have any interrupting insults unrelated to the case at hand in my courtroom. Ms. Granger, please continue.” The scolded wizard glowered at getting reprimanded, but held his silence.

 

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying a law needs to be put into place protecting creatures who are forced to change against their will from getting a backlash from the law for doing exactly what they were supposed to. If they take their potion then they are harmless to those around them. They pose no danger and should, therefore, have rights to protect their property and person. The defendant behind me will also have to face years of damage done to his personal image given he would like to have kept his wolf like nature under wraps and now it is out in the open. Getting a job, should he ever want to change occupations, will now be infinitely harder.”

 

“This is presuming, of course, that they are smart enough to remember to take their potion consistently.” the same wizard interjected. 

 

“That is quite enough, Mr. Brookwood. I will have order or you will be ushered out of my courtroom.” the judge turned on the sneering wizard. Sighing, the judge turned to everyone.

 

Positively bristling at the juror who would dare bring up such an irrelevant point to try to get her to change her tune, she smiled too sweetly at the juror who stared back, lip upturned in loathing. 

 

“Councilors, we will take a five minute recess to cool our tempers.” The pair eyed each other with contempt before turning, respectively. 

 

Only then did Hermione seem to take stock of who it was exactly that she was pushing rights for. If Hermione could push through the system with the individual in front of her,  she get any law passed. 

 

White blonde hair was slicked back haphazardly, but still gave off an air of high-brow elegance.  The hands clasped loosely with elbows propped up on the armrests of the defendant's chair. A leg crossed over the other as the ankle rested on a knee. His mannerisms were the epitome of casual ease, though his lean, wiry muscles had an underlying tension as if he was seconds from pouncing on an unsuspecting prey. Werewolf blood had made the man before Hermione a might more rugged than she remembered him. Although, it actually enhanced his attractive features, adding a feral and breathtaking quality about him. A wicked smirk curled over his handsome pale features. 

 

“Mornin’, Granger.”

 

There sat with all the sophistication that his upbringing had demanded of him was her childhood tormentor. 

 

Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione stared expressionless at the young man before her. Her countenance quickly became one of disgust and mild anger. 

 

“Malfoy” Nodding the barest of acknowledgments, she turned back around to her papers and quills that she had pulled out from her magical bag. 

 

His gaze studied her for a moment with an unidentifiable look about him.  He shook his head to clear it, a few strands of hair drifting carelessly to the side of his face. 

 

If he had not been the one to cause her so much pain and angst while younger she might have thought him quite attractive. None the less, he was still Draco and, as such, she would most assuredly be keeping him at well beyond arms length. 

 

“Not cordial, I see.” He sounded almost conversational. Like as if they had not been arch-rivals with not only herself, but her friends as well. 

 

“Not with you.”

 

“The cat has claws…,” he more uttered to himself than her.

 

“That hurts, Granger.  How are you supposed to win this case when you can't even stand to look at me?”

 

“I've fared far worse. You're just a tool in my plans. ”

 

“Ouch! Touchy, touchy. You're so tense. Why so sensitive, kitten? Weaselbee not  _ taking care  _ of you? Leaving you  _ frustrated _ ?” His last couple of statements sounded more like he was insinuating something. She shot him a glare absolutely spitting in rage as he leered at her. How dare he make a jab like that! “Oh, the she did not like that.  I guess I hit the nail on the head. She is hissing at me.” He didn't look at all perturbed by her mounting fury. In fact, he looked so damned pleased with himself as he lounged back into the chair. 

 

“Look, Malfoy, if I am to get liberties for werewolves… even ones I do not hold in high regard, you are going to have to sit down and shut it while I work.”

 

“Sure, sure, kitten. Go play legislator. Maybe we can discuss ‘making laws’ later.” Grinning sadistically at her, she realized in the back of her mind that he was… making passes at her. No! No, he wasn't, this was Malfoy. Vile and malevolent Malfoy.  Malfoy that called her ‘Mudblood. Malfoy that had brought in the Death Eaters and had resulted in Dumbledore’s death. She almost snapped her wand, that had suddenly materialized within her white knuckle grasp, in half. Her anger caused her wand to emit red sparks. 

 

“You were always so easy to rile. You fly off your broomstick at such a small tease. Holding on to some  _ frustrations _ there, Granger?” He had mentioned ‘frustration’ entirely to much to be coincidental. She had had enough of his insufferable demeanor. 

 

“Shut it, Malfoy, or I'll hex your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”

 

He raised his hands in a mock surrendering gesture. 

 

“You're the boss, puss. Though I might know a solution for those vexations.” Shooting her an odd, heated look. Her body responded to the look lethargically. It was almost as if it wanted to wake up to his gaze and she was preventing it. She rapidly quelled the feeling with horror and shame. Hermione’s brows furrowed at the reaction that look had given her as she turned around to go back to her task at hand. 

 

Had she actually stayed turned around to look at him, she would have been stunned and horrified at the intense, burning look he gave her back. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

“The proceedings will now resume. Mr. Brookwood, please show self restraint in my courtroom as we proceed.” The aforementioned wizard smirked evilly at Hermione whose nose wrinkled in response. 

 

“Now, opposition, please state your case. “

 

A stout witch that reminded Hermione vaguely of another insufferable witch with an affinity for pink and kittens, stood up and cleared her throat. However, Hermione knew this was not the same woman as that one went to Azkaban for her crimes.The young witch steeled herself for what she had already presumed would come.

 

“Very well. We collectively think Werewolves are a danger regardless if they've taken their potion or not.  They pose a credible peril to themselves and those around them. It's quite possible that they would have assailed someone and not realize they've attacked at all.  In fact, they may have no recollection of the assault. This makes them an even greater danger. Therefore, we move to oppose not searching and seizing a werewolf or their premises.”

 

“What garbage!  I remember everything, I just don't have control over my body as my wolf does. I take the Wolfsbane potion to keep my wolf subdued.” Draco spat.

 

“I'm sure you do.” The witch gave him a calculating stare. His face contorted into a silent snarl.  

 

“Look here,  you twat-” The judge cleared his throat. 

 

“That's enough, Mr. Malfoy.” Malfoy halted his tirade, but growled softly for a few minutes after. 

 

“As I was saying, while I question your memory during your Full Moon cycle, you said yourself you have no control over your…  _ beast _ during this time. You could very well black out and run amok cau-”

 

“I also just said the Wolfsbane potion keeps my wolf subdued,” Malfoy gritted out. His human nails started cutting rents into the arms of the chair. 

 

“I see, I'm sure your wolf is subdued as you sit here now looking like you want to tear me limb from limb and digging into the arms of that chair. I suggest a muzzle should do that wolf of yours wonders.” Malfoy’s snarling increased in volume, he quieted when Hermione shot him a warning look. Her look clearly stated  _ you aren’t helping any! Shut it!  _ His baleful glare kept trained on the Wizengamot witch. 

 

“Mr. Malfoy,  please keep silent during the opposing position on the matter.” Malfoy looked at the judge, seemingly half tempted to throw that rule out the window, but obeyed just the same. 

 

“As I was saying, should you actually recollect what you’ve done, which I highly doubt you ever do, you probably have assaulted someone without being able to control it. Also, since I think you are lying about attacking someone, I am fairly certain you would probably fess up to all sorts of secrets should we slip some Veritaserum into your throat. We might even find out just what kind of atrocities you committed while under the command of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

 

“Objection! Could we scratch that from the records? It’s speculation and a threat,” Hermione pipped up getting quite perturbed on Draco’s behalf.

 

“So stricken.”

 

“Speaking of memory,  we also are glad to have you in court, Ms. Granger,” Mr. Brookwood spoke up, drawing the courtroom’s attention to him once more. His sneer made Hermione’s skin absolutely crawl. She did not like what he was about to say. 

 

“And why is that,  Mr. Brookwood?” She eyed him warily.

 

“We think your competence as a witch comes to the fore in regards to the memory charm you performed on your parents. You failed to replace those memories. What an absolute shame.” His face showed none of the remorse his last sentence suggested. His face held such a malicious air, it made Hermione positively bristle.

 

A feral snarl ripped out of Hermione’s throat as she glared at Mr. Brookwood. Malfoy stiffened immediately behind her. Little did she know that she sounded more bestial than a civil human being.

 

Mr Brookwood’s smirk faltered as the witch began growling at him. 

 

She saw nothing but red at the enraging gall the wizard dared to have that he had brought up her parents at her expense.

 

Malfoy had stood up and walked until he was behind her.

 

“Granger.” His tone was soft, yet firm. All the sadistic playfulness from before was gone. All of his own frustration wiped from his face Hermione paused and looked back at him. His gray eyes were unreadable, but soothing as he gazed at her. He took her arm and pulled her, delicately coaxing her to get behind him. He wore an inscrutable expression as he simultaneously stepped in front of her as if to visibly shield her from Mr. Brookwood’s verbal assault.

 

“That's enough, Mr Brookwood.” His voice was placid, but no one could miss the deadly venom that permeated that simple sentence. The threat that hung heavy in the air held certain promise that swift retribution would befall the wizard should he continue harassing Hermione. The cold threat sent a slight shiver that passed through the whole room. The wizard opened his mouth to argue only to be silenced by Malfoy’s abrupt, luminescent, yellow glare.

 

Hermione was struck dumb. Malfoy was…  _ protecting _ her?! Her stomach did an odd back flip as she tried to register what he was doing. In all the years Hermione had known him,  Malfoy never had protected her. Something deep inside her purred, smitten with his unusual behavior.

 

She mentally smacked herself, hoping that it reached whatever made her taken with the blonde haired man before her. This was Malfoy!  A cruel loathsome creature! Someone never to be trusted! Yet… she found her defenses crumbling as he stood between her and the offending wizard in the jury. Never had Malfoy seemed so…  _ alluring _ . A hint of pink tinged her cheeks and she felt a tiny curl of excitement as she looked at him. 

 

Draco turned to go sit back down. He paused, his pupils dilating while he inhaled lightly. A slow smirk curled about his lips. Lust flinted across those glowing eyes. Her heart froze inside her chest.

 

_ Wait, no that can't be right!  _ **_Lust?!_ ** _ Surely not!  _ Hermione glanced again and saw only wicked humor.  _ I am imagining things. He couldn’t chase a Muggle-born! It would ruin his family’s pure-blood mania. _

 

“Ahem, Ms. Granger. Your attention if you please.” A voice broke over her reverie. Malfoy chuckled softly. 

 

“Hm? Oh, yes. My apologies for my lack of professionalism. It shall not happen again.”  _ I hope _ .  She finished in her head. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The rest of the proceedings went on without a hitch until it came to the terms the Wizengamot wanted.

 

“The Wizengamot has a proposition to offer the defense. Please present your stipulations,” the judge looked at the same witch as before in expectation. She nodded and stood once more.

 

“Ms. Granger, in order for the Wizengamot to get a further understanding that werewolves such as Mr. Malfoy here are indeed safe to be around during their Full Moon transformation after talking their daily Wolfsbane potion,  we elect to have you observe Mr. Malfoy on his property every day until after the Full Moon starts to wane. We will provide protection for you, a series of complex spells that repel a werewolf while they are in the aggressive state of mind. While docile,  they can be near you. The reason for the protection is this: The one term is you must stay through the nights noting any changes in behavior especially as it draws closer to the Full Moon. We will have a probation wizard drop by at random to check on the progress.”

 

As the witch stated what the Wizengamot wanted in exchange to have the law passed, Hermione’s jaw dropped to the floor. Staying near a werewolf, docile or not, was supremely risky during the Full Moon. Malfoy sat in stunned silence behind her. Hermione actually jumped when he spoke.

 

“I… I do not think that is such a good idea. Calm or not, I don't want to be liable of accidentally or intentionally biting her making her into a  _ lycanthrope _ permanently. It's a curse I bear,  and I would not wish it upon anyone. I also don’t understand if such spells exist, why should we have to prove my innocence?” Hermione turned to look at his concerned face. He was acting so odd and caring, very unlike the greasy haired brat she had come to know in her years at Hogwarts.

 

“The spells are in their trial stages. We have no idea if they work indefinitely. What better way to prove werewolves are docile, as both you and Ms. Granger proclaim, if they take the potion daily than having someone observe their behavior? And since Ms. Granger is hell-bent on passing the law, I see no better candidate. Unless if she cannot do it out of fear of the  _ creatures _ she so avidly cares about,” The witch snipped, her tone condescending. She placed particular emphasis of disgust upon the word ‘creatures’. 

 

Hermione’s face paled and her eyes flashed at the witch. She knew she was baiting her,  but she had a reputation to uphold. She would not be knocked down so easily.

 

“I'll do it,” she grit through clenched teeth, thinking of a number of legal and horrible hexes she could have performed on the vile woman before her. She had no idea how she was going to come out of this unscathed if not a little bit furry at the end of the month, and she admitted she was a little apprehensive, but she would do it dammit!

 

“Wait, Granger, we need to ta-.” Malfoy stammered.

 

“No, we don't.  I'll do it. If this what it takes,  then this is what it takes. I've been dealing with persecution for years because of my lineage.” Hermione shot the werewolf behind her a determined eye. She dared him to bring anything up about their past. His face and responding soft growl told he didn't appreciate the challenge, but recognized the need to keep mute on the problems between the two of them. He quieted at the sight of her infuriated resolution. Hermione could be quite a force to be reckoned with when her temper boiled. He had dealt with it first hand when she socked him square in the face during their year. 

 

“Yes, your lineage… perhaps that's why you connect so well with  _ them.”  _ The witch positively sneered at Hermione. 

 

Malfoy could almost see steam coming out of Hermione’s ears.

 

“People like me have  _ learned _ to look past that ridiculous nonsense.”

 

“Because people like you probably  _ took _ that idea away from us.”

 

“Some people need to move past the  _ outdated _ notion of  _ taking _ anything. We inherited it. Those people need to  _ come to terms _ with this singular fact.”

 

Both witches look ready for an all out brawl in the middle of the courtroom. Forget the wands, this would have been settled with fists if Malfoy had not stepped in.

 

“So be it. I see my hand is forced to accept these terms.” He looked at the Wizengamot and Hermione with a wary expression. Hermione looked deflated at the interruption,  but calmed down nonetheless. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

Had anyone been in the main hall of the Ministry they would have been bulldozed by a fuming witch and a taunting wizard on her heels.

 

“Malfoy, enough! I mean, aren't you supposed to be under house arrest or something?”

 

“No, I'm defending against their accusation that I hurt someone and filing a suit against the wankers who fucked up my door. Besides, why would I miss an opportunity to harass you?”

 

“So you admit to sexually harassing me earlier?”

 

“Did I say sexual? I don’t believe I did. Seems to me, you're the one thinking it, Granger. Freudian slip?” Malfoy was thoroughly succeeding in making Hermione’s face change into a permanent shade of red. His grin got wider as she refused to answer and went to go purchase a Daily Prophet from the paperboy. The main hallway was pretty vacant save the paperboy,  Malfoy, and herself. She made haste to get something to distract her from the insufferable wizard that tailed her. 

 

“That will be five Sickles.” She dropped the coins on the ground before giving it to the paperboy as she read the headline.

 

**_ICE CREAM SHOP OWNER GIVES AWAY TAINTED ICE CREAM_ **

_ Christof Hendleburg of the famous Ice cream shop, Christof’s Creamery, in Diagon Alley has been charged with providing some of his ice cream to his customers that has been tainted with Werewolf Blood. Those who have consumed his products within the last week are asked to promptly report to St. Mungo’s. The only ones so far who have exhibited signs of ingesting the blood have been the individuals who consumed raspberry dream cream.  _

 

_ While there has been no reversal for what the blood has done, it does not mean that those who consumed the ice cream are now werewolves.  There is no forced, willing, or partial metamorphosis. Those individuals will only exhibit slight canine traits such as growling, preferring their meat on the rarer side, territorial, heightened sense of smell, glowing eyes, larger appetite and similar wolf like attributes. _

 

_ A full list of the symptoms has not been compiled as of this moment,  but if you have had some of the ice cream from Christof’s shop and you are experiencing any of the symptoms above please seek assistance immediately. _

 

_ As to how the Werewolf blood came into contact with the ice cream, investigations are being conducted at the present time. The Department of Law Enforcement as yet to comment on the matter.  _

 

Hermione had gone completely ashen. She felt a rise of bile in her throat. She was going to throw up. Dashing over to the nearest trash bin, she brought up all that she had eaten that day. 

 

Realizing her hair was off her back, she turned her green face to see who was holding it back for her. 

 

Malfoy eyed her with concern and a hint of squeamishness. It dawned on Hermione that he was helping her. He seemed more vaguely disgusted by the fact that she was vomiting than that he was touching her.

 

“That was a bit of overly dramatic reaction. Not going to lie, the stench of vomit was nauseating even when I wasn’t a werewolf; now, it’s just bloody unbearable.” After she had come back from brushing her teeth in the ladies room. Good thing she listened to the constant droning her parents had given her on oral care. It had been drilled into her head to bring a toothbrush everywhere. The dentists couldn’t have their daughter waltzing around the Wizarding world with a mouthful of cavities!  “I mean I know what that blighter and bitch said to you shook you up, but I didn-”

 

“N-no, no, no. I eat those prats for breakfast on most days. T-this has nothing to do with that,” She hastily interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. The eating comment earned her a small chuckle. “He got into my head which I should not have let him.”

 

“So did Weaselbee get you knocked up?”

 

“What? No, Ronald and I have not been with each other for a while. What gave you that notion?” She didn’t see the brief possessive look that he gave her as he divined this information as her attention was aimed at the vile headlines. He shrugged.

 

“It seemed like morning sickness. Well, what then?”

 

She gave him a long, deliberate stare. Then brought up the offending newspaper under his nose. He started and almost spat back at her for shoving a paper in his face,  but then quieted as he read the headline.

 

“I am going to assume you ate the raspberry one, am I correct?” He inquired, gazing up at her from over the paper. She nodded feeling like she had swallowed Neville’s toad. 

 

“So that’s why…” He began, not looking at her, but not looking at the paper either.

 

“Why, what?” He gave her a mischievous grin. She did  _ not _ like that look one bit.

 

Malfoy bent close to her face and went passed until she could feel his warm breath caress her ear. Her heart kicked it up a notch, and she hoped to Godric Gryffindor that he couldn’t hear it thundering away. Given that he was so close all she could smell was him. It was woodsy, clean, and slightly spicy. It left her with a heady feel it was so overwhelming. Excitement spiraled through her, making her minutely giddy.

 

“You have been giving off a rather compelling aroma all morning. It’s been most…. _ intriguing _ ,” He murmured huskily, almost growling the last word. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest and fly away, causing her breath to come out in short spurts across his cheek. His pale locks rippled in time with her respirations. 

 

A tongue dove into the shell of her ear and he bit on her lobe. Her breath hitched and then she groaned, heat immediately spreading over her cheeks and down her chest. What had not even been an implication of her arousal swiftly became a carnal desire that ached to consume her whole.  After going so long without the sensual caresses of another, she was lost the moment he struck. She completely forgot who it was that was invoking her excitement. His wolf howled for her and she was helpless to this libidinous call, instantly answering in fervor.

 

Gently pushing her by her hips into a darkened corridor, he nipped lightly at her neck, eliciting minute mewls and whimpers from the shameless witch. So captivated by his ministrations, she had no idea what was up and what was down. He growled his approval, smirking unscrupulously.

 

Lapping at the small welts his nips had made, Malfoy drew back and lifted a hand. It smoothly metamorphosed into long, deadly talons that could rend flesh from bone within seconds. Hermione trembled slightly at the intimidating appendages, morbidly musing on how easily they could disembowel someone if he was angered. It positively thrilled her that he was considering using his claws in such a gentle, lascivious manner. It was eliciting so many enticing feelings within her. He was the last person on earth to be caressing her so wantonly and she knew it. Yet she couldn’t seem to pull away from his flame that threatened to burn her. 

 

An elongated, black claw drew a faint line from her chin down her throat and slid deftly over the swell of her breast through the fabric of her shirt. A soft cry escaped her as a slight twinge of pain the sharp claw had created mixed in with her pleasure. Wrapping his arms around her small frame, he pulled her to his chest, her hands going timidly to the muscles there. It astonished her to feel the iron bands the wrapped around his lithe body. She knew he was the Slytherin seeker for years, and figured his werewolf blood had made him a bit stronger, but she didn’t know exactly what kind of effect it would have on him. Her fingers danced across the sinewy muscles, tracing and unconsciously memorizing them. 

 

Malfoy bit on the fleshy part of her shoulder causing her to gasp. Grunting in response,  he lowered until he was level with her torso. Then he hooked both of her legs and picked them up to wrap around his waist, slamming her forcibly into the wall of the corridor. Hermione gasped out in pain and arousal. Surprises always had a way of making her more susceptible to male attentions. A fact Malfoy quickly took note of and employed.

 

His black claws pricked at the soft flesh of her legs,  but he was mindful of them.  He used one to absentmindedly stroke dangerously near her heat. It drew a sliver of blood. Hermione was unperturbed, panting and whimpering with the familiar ache growing inside of her. Smirking with male arrogance,  Malfoy continued his licking. 

 

It was then she became acutely aware of his arousal and her body responded without her explicit consent to it. Chest heaving, a trickle of wetness had begun at the apex of her thighs, her hands grasping the material of his shirt desperately. She felt rather than saw his own reply. She let out an arduous wail without a care in the world that someone might could hear her. Somewhere in her head, its keenness dulled by lust, moaned  _ I want it! _

 

Malfoy picked up her arm and began to nip and lick until he came to her offending scar. Pausing, he looked at it with almost repugnance and a hint of sadness. Hermione was nearly shocked out of her sexual stupor when he began to kiss each letter of the dreadful word that his accursed and crazed aunt had carved into her arm. It was like as if he was trying apologize and kiss each letter away. 

 

Another prick in Hermione’s mind reminded her of something, but it was so far out of reach in her consciousness it barely registered. It tried to claw its way out, but the weight of their arduous web ensnared and smothered the assessment as her hands reached around to claw at his back through the material stretched taunt over his muscles. It hastily interrupted his affections on her arm. A low rumble alerted Hermione to his displeasure until he surmised she wanted to continue with the task at hand. Groaning in admission, he pushed her harder against the wall. She winced a little in pain and he eased slightly, noting her discomfort. 

 

Malfoy drew his tongue over her bottom lip causing her to open her mouth in an invitation. When he did not take it, she tried to bite his in retaliation on being denied. He pulled back sharply, a sadistic grin plastered over his sharp features.  A deep chuckle, thick from longing and hunger vibrated the skin under her fingertips as she had began helplessly grinding against him.

 

“Enjoying ourselves are we, Granger? Seems you've been holding on to this for quite a while. ” Hearing her name whispered on Malfoy’s lips, as husky and seductive as it was, was like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over her head. Hermione stilled her motions. She was so lewdly wrapped around the very same Malfoy who had uttered racial slurs and wished her dead when they were younger. Her mind worked slowly and thickly trying to remind herself that this was not someone she should be concupiscent with. As if it was vindictive that she would even think such thoughts, her body betrayed her as another wave of heat hit her nethers. His pupils dilated and nostrils flared in obvious response to the spike in her scent.

 

With a choked cry, she shoved away from him. Her body screamed at the loss of his, angry and indignant,  but she knew she had to deny herself.  This was Malfoy! 

 

He relented easily, but kept close by. He made no move towards her and appeared calm and collected.

 

One look at his eyes, however, told a different story. A deep, lustful hunger sat in the amber pools. Ready to attack at the slightest sign of weakness. 

 

Her face flushed as she recollected what they had done and her thoughts drifted to his…  _ manhood  _ that she had felt so clearly _. _ A wave of arousal crashed over her and she was half aware of Malfoy’s growl of longing and exasperation in the background. 

 

“Don't push me away then get that exquisite smell about you again. I can barely contain the wolf as it stands.” He whined. 

 

“What are you talking about? You shouldn’t have even touched me!” Grasping at straws to get him to stay back. It worked as he lazily leaned up against the adjacent wall.

 

“Shouldn’t have touched you? Granger, after the way you responded with those sublime sounds that graced my ears,  how could I not touch you? Admit it, kitten, you want me.” The lure in his heavy-lidded eyes was almost too much to bear. His arrogant sneer that replaced it when she moaned softly, flared up Hermione’s temper.

 

“I certainly do not! Why would I want anyone as conceited and as cruel as you?”

 

“‘Why’, I cannot answer, but as for wanting me, you certainly do.”

 

“Fat chance, Wolf Boy, I could never want you.”

 

“You are lying only to yourself. You know you wanted it as much as I. I can  _ smell  _ it.” As if to provide proof of his words, he drew a long intake of breath, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “Granger, it’s so  _ mouthwatering _ and palpable I can almost taste it. Why would you deny such an indulgence?” 

 

“Maybe you need to have your nose checked, because there is nothing that occurs when you approach me, other than a revulsion.” Malfoy’s grin got even wider.

 

“I see, so that was revulsion that was moaning and crying in wild abandon a minute ago under my fingers. Revulsion that has your heart echoing it’s frantic beats in my ear. Revulsion that gives off that delectable scent that is currently coming out of every pore in your body … Need I go on?” He retorted back at her, clearly enjoying her discomfiture. 

 

“That will never happen again, Malfoy. You hate me, remember?” Hermione spat back. 

 

“We have a fairly unamiable history, yes, but hate you? I do not.” He spoke so softly she almost missed his last phrase. His eyes were soft as he gazed at her. Her eyes widened at his confession, but hardened immediately.

 

“We cannot have these kinds of relations, you are a client, it would be unethical.”

 

“I would like to see how you would abstain from this kind of relation.”

 

“Wouldn’t be hard, since I am repelled by your very existence.”

 

“Yes, so repelled you grow wet from my attentions.”

 

“That was a fluke.”

 

“That’s exactly what I am going to say when I take you on my-” A hand covered his mouth.

 

“Whoa. Wait, explain something to me. Why are you suddenly so interested in me? I’m a Muggle-born, remember?” She gave a slight shriek when he nipped her hand affectionately. He had such a heated look in his eyes, Hermione thought her head would combust into flames if he did not redirect them.

 

“Let’s just say, I  _ empathize _ with your very own blood status plight.” She paused and gave her own sneer.

 

“I see, so who has dirty blood again?” His wolf bristled at her challenging insult. He snarled and rammed her back into the wall.

 

“You dare impugn me?!” His voice was inhuman and demonic with eyes like two pits of hell staring straight at her face. Without thinking, Hermione moved her head to the side in anticipation of a strike. He was quiet for a moment then nuzzled her neck appreciatively. She gaped when realized she had just submitted to his dominance. 

 

“This is going to be an intriguing month,” he uttered into her neck without his usual mockery.

 

“I’ll say,” she responded airily.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione fidgeted with her stuff and picked at her food at a low table at Weyward Sisters. After sleeping on the idea that she would be spending a whole month with her old adversary, she woke up famished, her appetite coming back with a vengeance. Nervous didn't even begin to describe how Hermione felt. The prospect of telling her beloved friends what had happened to her and what she had begrudgingly agreed to was quite unbearable. She felt so hungry, but with her nerves so shot she also felt the urge to bring it all back up again. At least there wasn’t many people in the pub to bother her while she felt this way. It was populated only by a few of the regulars.

 

She worried at a piece of wayward thread on her yellow, summer skirt. She had chosen to wear something light as she already felt queasy and hot from nerves. Though her thin, white top was doing nothing to help cool her. She fanned herself with her napkin as she shoved in another mouthful of food. It didn’t ease the heat much, but it helped her feel like she was accomplishing something while she waited.

 

Hermione had sent an owl to each of her comrades from the Ministry indicating she needed to discuss something with them the day before.  Ginny had not seen her as Hermione had gone to bed well before she had even come back from the house from hanging out with a couple of the local witches.

 

The first to arrive was the red haired witch. She was about to greet her their usual way when she stopped upon seeing her friend's face.

 

“‘Mione… you don't look so good. What happened to you?” Hermione didn't answer.

 

“Did you see the guys?”

 

“Not yet. I know Mum’s probably pestering Ron about something she needs done, but they should be here soon.” Ginny sat in the chair across from Hermione. She looked at the mass of plates before Hermione and grew a little nauseous. Boy, it had only taken a day or two for Hermione to completely change…

 

“Okay, well, I’m going to wait until they get here. I want to tell all of you together so that there's no confusion.” Ginny nodded.

 

A couple of minutes went by while Ginny watched Hermione eat in silence before Ron and Harry came to the table.

 

“Morning, Gin. Morning He…,” Harry had started, his words dying away as Ginny’s had. Ron and Harry passed a look between them then high-tailed it to the other side of the women at the table.

 

“Hermione, spill. The hell is going on with you? I was telling Ron yesterday I was getting worried about you.  He told me not to fuss. Said you might be on your monthlies or some shite.”

 

Hermione gave an exasperated scowl to the two men before setting her utensils down.

 

“Okay I have two things to discuss.  You want the bad news or the really bad news first? They are both bad, but one I feel is just awful.” She crossed her fingers that they would save the worst for last.

 

“Really bad news first.”

 

_Dammit._

 

Hermione took a deep breath.  She knew they were all going to absolutely lose it.

 

“You remember how I said I’ve been pushing for Werewolf freedoms and rights? Well, I was in court yesterday for this very reason. Typical day, dealing with those piranhas.”

 

“Cut to the chase, Hermione.” Ron looked at her expectantly. Hermione glowered at him.

 

“I'm getting there, Ronald.  Are you telling this story or am I?” Ron huffed, but let her continue.

 

“So the defendant that I’m having to represent during these proceedings is… Draco Malfoy.”

 

“Oh, that's not bad news, in fact I say that's good, now you can rub it in his face on _his_ blood status.” Harry snickered.

 

“Harry… I haven't gotten to the bad part yet…”

 

“Oh…”

 

“Any way, we get to the particulars of what I would have to do in order to get this law to pass, bloody corrupt, wizards and witches, and…” Hermione’s heart was beating a mile a minute as her friends leaned in. She almost lost her lunch just at their anticipation.

 

She muttered the terms and her friends looked at each other, lost, as they didn't hear her.

 

“Um, what?”

 

Pause.

 

“I-have-to-spend-a-whole-month-until-the-Full-Moon-wanes-at-Malfoy’s-residence,” Hermione sputtered out. It took a second for realization to dawn on her friends’ faces because she had said it so fast. Once they did, an explosion of disapproval ensued from her friends.

 

“Oh my god…”

 

“What a bunch of gits!”

 

“Hermione, you need to march up there and demand that they rethink this over.  It's soooo dangerous!”

 

“Malfoy better watch his fucking back!”

 

Her friends’ rage mimicked her own. she raised her shaking hands, effectively silencing them.

 

“I agreed to the conditions. My stupid pride would not allow me to say no. They insulted my pride, and though I was provoked, albeit poorly since I know I was, it was effective enough for me to acquiesce. Also, they have a series of spells that'll protect me.”

 

“Hermione this is still really dangerous. Why did you consent to it?” Ginny’s face was etched with so much concern it hurt Hermione to see her that way.

 

“Just because I don't get along with one werewolf doesn't mean the rest should suffer. It'll only be for one month.”

 

“Still… oh! be careful!” Ginny squeaked and leaned across the table to give her friends a very awkward bear hug. Hermione lightly chuckled.

 

“I will, Gin.  Not to worry, I got a few hexes and jinxes waiting for him should he try anything.” She grinned, spitting out some of the red hair that had crept up her face.

 

She didn't dare tell them that the spells were in their trial period or about the deeds Malfoy and her had involved themselves in after.  Her face grew a little pink at the memory and she thanked Merlin’s beard they couldn't see her pink gave in the mass of red hair.

 

“So what's the other bad news?” Ginny inquired after releasing the witch.

 

Hermione had hoped they would forget in the uproar of the previous news. She had no such luck.

 

“Yeah… about that. Remember when we went to the ice cream shop a couple of days ago?” Ginny nodded get affirmation. Hermione sighed and brought out the newspaper that she had kept from the day before and placed it in the middle of the table so they could all read.

 

A hush fell over the trio.

 

“Wait, you had the chocolate swirl didn't you? I could have sworn you had the chocolate swirl,” Ginny had asked hopefully. Hermione shook her head at her.

 

“Nope, the Raspberry Dream.”

 

“Bullocks! I'm sorry, ‘Mione. That really sucks,” Ron eloquently offered. Harry just continued to stare.

 

“You have this going on and you are going to Malfoy’s place… won't he see your more ‘wolfish’ side as a challenge to be alpha?”

 

“I don't think so, Harry. If how he acted yesterday is any indication, he didn't seem to want to hurt me.” _Getting into my robes is more like it._ She did not share this thought with them. She had to choose her words carefully lest she give herself away.

 

“Really? From all the various threats he gave you while we were at school? That's a load of bull I think.”

 

“No, I'm serious, as much as the man repulses me, I think getting Werewolf venom in his blood was just what he needed. Gave him a taste of his own medicine.” _You'll probably get to taste that medicine yourself soon_ … Something ferine cooed inside her head.  Cheeks flushing, she squashed that thought quickly down into the recesses of her mind. _Bad girl!  No! Don't think such thoughts! This is Malfoy! He shouldn’t even be acting this way towards me… Why IS he acting this way towards me?_ She had come to realize the Werewolf Blood that infected her had a personality all on its own. It was damn hard to resist agreeing with its proposition though.

 

“So when do you start?”

 

“Tomorrow, Malfoy and I decided to meet up to discuss arrangements.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Here, actually.  In about thirty minutes.”

 

“Do you need someone to stay behind?”

 

“No, I'll be quite alright. You forget who punched whom in our third year.” Hermione’s eyebrows wiggled as a smirk too much like a certain blonde werewolf’s crept up onto her face.

 

They all smiled at her a little, getting a little looser now that everything, well almost everything, was out on the table.

 

After a few more minutes of ribbing each other and Hermione ordering another plate of food, her friends started to get up to leave.

 

“Now, we know you said you would be fine, but are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself with Mr. Furrybutt?” Harry snickered at his own joke. Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

“Of course, now get out of here, I don’t want a skirmish to start in here if you all were to start picking fights.”

 

“Who says anything about picking fights?” Ron said innocently.

 

“You, sir, have a horrible temper. You are the reason I’m scooting you all out of here.” Ron gasped in mock shock.

 

“Me?! How dare you!” Hermione grinned and gave him a big hug. She further reassured his sister and friend before they finally made their way out the door.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn’t a moment later that the trio had Apparated from the street that Hermione heard another crack of Apparation. She glanced out the door and jerked up her chin to acknowledge Malfoy’s presence. He nodded in return and walked over to the bartender to exchange a few words.

 

Then he made his way to her table, prowling like the wolf that resided in him.  Her stomach did a weird twist at the sight of him.

 

Malfoy smirked at the amount of food and plates on the table.

 

“Hungry?” He gazed at her.

 

“I’m just getting started.”

 

“One would think you were the werewolf and not I with the rate you are consuming.”

 

“Well, I am infected after all. Seems only reasonable that I would have the appetite and a few mannerisms to boot.” He looked at her but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he leaned down next to her ear given Hermione a nice dose of deja vu.

 

“Even over all of this food I can smell you are not _just_ hungry for food. You know, I _can_ help appease your hunger,” his voice rumbled next to her ear, words clearly holding a double-entendre.  She never had thought his voice was that deep or... _sensual_ before, but being that close to her ear gave her no doubt in her mind. Her body instantly responded just to his voice. A flush began to creep over her cheeks and over her breasts. She felt her undergarments dampen and her breath caught in her throat.

 

Malfoy chuckled huskily and sat were the red-headed witch had sat only moments before. He sniffed casually and then made a face.

 

“Scar-boy was here, wasn’t he? Oh, Weaselbee and Weaselette, too? I thought you and that matchstick weren’t together anymore.” He eyed her suspiciously. She was still trying to find her brain somewhere while he was complaining. Finally, it decided it wanted to join Malfoy and her in the real world.

 

“We aren’t, but that still doesn’t mean we aren’t on friendly terms.” He grunted his reply. Crossing his arms, he propped up his feet on the table, getting comfortable.

 

“So how is this going to play out? While, I certainly do not feel comfortable with you coming into my quarters that close to the Full Moon, I am obligated by both the Wizengamot and you to allow it. I do have a spare bedro… What is it?” Malfoy paused at he looked at her blanched face.

 

“I just remembered something… I didn’t even think about it before… Your house is where…,” Hermione looked down at her arm when she didn’t finish the sentence. It clicked in Draco’s mind.

 

“I don’t live with my parents anymore, Hermione. You won’t be anywhere near that room.” She gazed at him with something akin to gratitude and then she grew conscious to the fact that he had used her name for the first time without contempt.

 

“... T-then that settles that problem.” Even as she hastily pushed that memory deep down, it didn’t help the tears from springing to her eyes. She tried to stop herself, but one or two spilled and she shifted her eyes and tried to cover her face with her hair quickly. She was embarrassed to have succumbed so easily to the emotions of something that happened so long ago.

 

Hermione’s entire reality came to a screeching halt when she felt a warm, wetness sweep over her cheek, tracing the tear’s path up to where it had escaped.

 

Her eyes shot up to look at Malfoy who was leaning way over the table to lave her face. He was mindful of the plate of food that sat in front of her, careful not dip his shirt into it.

 

His tongue slipped back inside his mouth for a moment before emerging from his lips again to lick the other side.

 

Such a small gesture, yet the effect that it had on Hermione was profound. It left her speechless and her mind came back jumbled and slow to react. Why was he being so nice to her? The Mud-blood. He had said he was more empathetic now, but she didn’t think he would be this thoughtful.

 

Malfoy sat back down and started to talk as if he had not licked her face at all.

 

“I have a spare bedroom at my place. It should fit your needs. My mother and father use it when they come to visit me. Has a steel door and walls with two deadbolt locks.” She half expected him to make lewd suggestions, but he refrained. So the man had tact after all.

 

“The steel door is not as uncommon, but walls too?” He shrugged noncommittedly.

 

“When I change, I turn into what the Norse had called ‘Berserkers’. I am a bit volatile. I broke through my walls too much. It was costing a fortune, which is saying something for someone of my stature. So, I paid a smaller fortune and had them reinforced with steel. It’s worked like a charm so far.”

 

“So... I am to stay at your place the entire time?”

 

“Well, since the terms were to take notes of my conduct at night, I recommend you to stay at my place. While it would be nothing to Apparate back and forth, it'll just be simpler to keep all your necessities in one location and not fuck with going to and from one residence to another.” Hermione nodded seeing his reason.

 

“Seems logical. I’ll bring my belongings with me tomorrow. Everything should be taken care of by then. I've made the appointment with the Wizengamot to have those ‘spells’ applied after we meet.” She shuddered at little at her vulnerability. His mentions of his Berserker demeanor gave her the chills. She had experienced his claws first hand, even if his intent had been not been malicious, they were still sharp as knives and just as deadly.

 

“I'm not going to say the wolf will behave, and I'm very apprehensive to have you near me during my cycle, but not for the reason you think it is. I can absolutely guarantee my wolf does not intend on hurting you.” Hermione’s head shot up to look at him. She drew back a little at the hungry, golden stare that met her gaze.

 

“I am not so su-”

 

“I am,” Malfoy interjected. “The wolf, I am dead certain, has no intentions of maiming you. I feel what my wolf feels and from what I interpret, this feeling is not one of an intent to maul you. Far from it actually.”

 

“So… then what kind of intent do you feel from the wolf?” An impish grin broke out over Malfoy’s face. It made him look like a mischievous little boy instead of the ex-Death Eater made werewolf that lounged before her. He dropped his legs to the floor and leaned over the table

 

“Come now, Granger, surely you can't be that thick. You were the smartest witch of our year.  Guess being book smart won’t give you all the answers, huh?” He teased. Hermione stared at him with a bewildered face.

 

“How you reacted earlier tells me that it's just been some time since you’ve… been taken care of, but not that you have never gone without.  You know what I refer to, so don't be coy.” Malfoy was enjoying his little sadistic game.

 

When Hermione still looked at him weird, he sighed in mock exasperation. She then felt his knee wedge itself between her legs.  

 

“Malfoy! What are y… oh.” Hermione’s cheeks grew steadily red with embarrassment.  Why had she not picked up on what he was insinuating sooner?!

 

“Enough, Malfoy.“ She tried in earnest to push the knee out from in between her legs, her face turning a light shade of scarlet. She was honestly concerned that it would stay that hue.

 

“Enough? Oh, no, I don't think so.” A sinister, lascivious smirk curled about his lips and suddenly Hermione felt something rub and writhe obscenely against her heat. It slackened its tempo to make slow, deliberate circles over her underwear. Jolts of excitement pulsed throughout her body, originating from her core.

 

She squeaked and jumped back, causing the chair to clatter to the floor. She glanced down and saw the offending appendage was his socked foot. He had taken off his shoe under the table in order to cop a feel. The culprit had a telling grin cracked over his face. Evidence of her disobedient body enjoying his attentions quickly became obvious between the two of them. He leaned back and brought up his hands behind his head in triumph.

 

They had gained the attention of the patrons of the small tavern. Hermione smiled about sheepishly, muttering apologies, and swatted his foot out of her chair. She stopped dead when she heard a responding growl. She cast a glimpse out of fear in the direction of the offender and almost fell over in shock. The werewolf was indeed growling, but his face was highly suggestive. He didn’t look irate at all. In fact, he appeared to be growling in want. The rumbling that was emitting from his chest was so dark and sensual. Oh, how she longed to lose herself to the alluring sound.

 

She realized she was starring in a daze when she was shaken out of her hypnosis from Malfoy’s husky chuckle. She scowled, righted the chair and sat down abashedly.

 

“You were getting so serious over there, I needed you to trade emotions, Granger.” He smiled lazily at her.

 

“We all can’t be floating carefree butterflies, Malfoy,” she spat back. He just snickered at her weak comeback. “Anyway, we are going to need to finish here soon. I am leaving shortly to have the spells cast over me.”

 

“I think you are wasting your time, but go ahead.”

 

“Why do you think I’m wasting my time? It’s to protect me from your lupine side, right? Do you think they won’t work?”

 

“... If the purpose of those spells do what I think they do, they won’t help our particular case, but we will see in due time.” He eyed her speculatively. She looked at him, perplexed, but dropped the matter.

 

“I was also told you had to be present during the process.”

 

“Me? Why?”

 

“I’m not altogether positive. Only that you had to. They didn’t tell me this until I contacted them to make the appointment.” Malfoy grimaced, but nodded his consent.

 

They got up from their table. Draco sauntered to stand outside, smiling knowingly as Hermione made her way over to Nick to pay for her tab, who shook his head.

 

“It’s been taken care of, Miss.” He smiled warmly at her.

 

“By whom?”

 

“The bloke that sat next to you.”

 

“Oh... thank you. I’ll see you soon, Nick…” She glanced outside to the man standing in front of the large window. A slightly different twinge struck her. Hermione didn’t dwell on it as they were going to be late should she had taken the time to contemplate it.

 

She made her way to Malfoy’s side and gingerly grasped his sleeve, too uncertain to hold his hand or link an arm. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

 

“Granger, you are going to get splinched holding onto my shirt like that. “

 

An arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her until she was in pressed flush from chest to groin with Malfoy.  She made a mousey squeak, feeling pangs of arousal, and shoved out of instinct. She was unable to move away as his arm had become a solid band of iron. He was gentle, but unyielding.

 

“Oh, no, Granger, if you are to be my guest, I can't have you splinched and bleeding a mess all over my house.” He gave her a toothy grin. “Besides, by your smell alone I can tell you don't mind this one bit.” He muttered huskily.

 

Hermione’s heart was pounding. All of her senses were overwhelmed from him. His smell, the warmth radiating off of him, the fact that she was pressed so intimately to him she could feel him hardening from their close proximity. Her own traitorous body grew damp from the knowledge.

 

“While I probably needed to have taken a better hold of you, Apparating doesn't require me to be in your body, Malfoy,” she grumbled.

 

“Perhaps not, but maybe it'll help to be in yours.” His voice whispered harshly into her ear.

 

She shrieked in indignantly and thumped him on the chest. Grasping at his shirt when she felt a familiar yank behind her navel.

 

He had Apparated them right in front of the corridor they had occupied from the day before. She whirled her head and glowered at him, her face once more turning crimson.

 

“Admit it Granger, you opened yourself up for that one.”

 

Not wanting to get caught again she retorted, “Then I'll keep myself ‘closed’ around you from now on.”

 

He just grinned and waited for her to usher them in the direction of her appointment.

 

Hermione stomped off in the direction of the Department of Law Enforcement with Malfoy’s snickers tailing behind, indicating he was following. She stopped abruptly, almost causing Malfoy to collide with her.

 

“What the hell, Granger?”

 

She turned and her face turned a bright shade of magenta as she stared pointedly at the ground.

 

“T… thank you for buying my meal. It was unnecessary for you to buy it, but thank you, nonetheless,” she grumbled out. He leaned close to her face and she took a quick peek up at him. His smile was light, carefree and warm. So unlike the character she had grown to associate with him over the years.  It made her heart stutter to see such a foreign expression on his face.

 

“My pleasure, Granger.” He didn't tease her, just waited patiently for her to resume their trek to the Department.

 

By the time they had made it into the Department she had cooled her heating body and was looking for the witch that they needed to see. She strode to the secretary.

 

“Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy here to see Officer Yamberg.”

 

“Yes, she’s been expecting you, please go through the door all the way down the hall and to the left.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They walked down the hall to the indicated door and knocked.

 

“Enter.”

 

Upon opening the door, they found a portly middle aged woman with plum robes and rosy cheeks. Her countenance was warm and comforting. It was soothing after dealing with so many abrasive personalities to have someone to soothe the irritations.

 

“Ah, welcome! And do I have the pleasure of meeting Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy?” They nodded.

 

“Oh good! Good! Marvelous! We will make quick work of these, I will just need your cooperation. Now, young man, come over here please, I need a sample from you.”

 

“Wait, a sample of what?” Malfoy inquired skeptically as Hermione sat in a convenient chair against the wall.

 

“Your blood, my dear. I'm quite distressed to hear that they approved to have these experimental spells performed while they are still in their adolescence. Given this fact, the spells can only work on an individual by individual basis. To elaborate, I'm taking your blood and mixing it with the spells, very complicated and dangerous process do not have me explain it, and applying it to Miss Granger. She will be only protected from your wolf’s aggressive nature, not another werewolf’s. It'll prevent you from biting her during the full moon and thusly making her into a werewolf herself.”

 

“Won't it infect her to have my blood utilized in this?”

 

“No, the spells rest on top of the skin like an invisible glove.”

 

“It won't absorb into her skin?”

 

“Negative once again, it acts like a really snug barrier.”

 

“Wait, Malfoy, what does that matter?  I'm already infected, remember?” Hermione piped up from her seat.

 

“Pardon? Already infected?” Officer Yamberg blinked in worry and confusion.

 

“Yes, I got infected by the blood found in Christof’s Creamery’s ice cream.”

 

“Oh, dear, I'm so sorry darling. So dreadfully sorry…In that case this will just protect you from becoming a full werewolf should he try to bite you during the Full Moon.” Hermione received a sympathetic glance from the kind witch.

 

“Does it only protect her from me biting her only during the Full Moon?”

 

“Yes, and the spells will also react if mauling is attempted.”

 

“What about transformations? Does it only protect her when it thinks I'm going to maim and bite her during a Full Moon, or does it protect her whenever I transform indefinitely?”

 

“That's… a very specific question… please explain.”

 

“I metamorphose freely and by obligation.” To show evidence of his words he started to mutate in the office.

 

Hermione heard sickening bone crunching and clothes ripping noises as his skeletal structure changed. His black claws slid out from the tips of his fingers. His spine could be seen breaking, lengthening, and reforming, it caused him to stand at weird angles. A skeletal tail shot out. It was quickly wrapped with muscle and then encased in skin and black fur. His feet and legs grew and bowed back, limbs tearing through his shoes and shorts. Muscles bulged while his skin stretched grotesquely over it. His chest expanded like a barrel sized balloon. Uncovered cartilage distended out of his crown becoming a pair of pointed ears, his own human ones vanishing into the side of his face.  His jaw, nose and eye sockets split the skin of his face, giving them a truly nightmarish and terrifying sight as all they could see was his exposed skull and eyeballs floating amid a mass of muscle and tendons. The bones stretched and warped into a canine muzzle, tendons, muscles, and skin promptly latching onto the new bone like a hundred tiny branches. Malfoy’s teeth burst from bone and gums. Razor sharp incisors elongated to be almost as big as Hermione’s hand.

 

Hermione almost screamed at the horror she was witnessing, but wisely refrained. It didn’t help the look of pure fear from crossing her features, however. One of his floating eyes, swiveled perversely toward her. She almost fainted from the sight.

 

As if like fireworks indicating a finale of a weird sideshow attraction, black fur sprouted from every pore in his body. It was curious that even though he was blonde, his fur was as black as night. His eyes beamed yellow out of the dark mass.

 

Malfoy was colossal and quite the assuming beast. Clearly a bipedal werewolf, he towered over the two witches almost twice their height since he stood on his huge hind legs. Hermione could certainly see why he had used the term ‘Berserker’. Malfoy was a terrifying sight to behold. His sheer size alone was intimating. She would never want him chasing her down. She trembled from her fright. It did not get overlooked. Malfoy created the impression that he was sincerely trying to come off as less formidable.

 

“A… am I in the presence of the wolf or Mister Malfoy?” Yamberg questioned cautiously. Malfoy cocked his head and pointed to his throat shaking his enormous wolf skull.  

 

“You can't answer questions unless if they are yes or no, can you?” Again he shook his head.

 

“Alright then, I already gathered as much since you are answering, but I am talking to Mister Malfoy, correct?” He nodded his head.

 

“Very good. Well, to answer your previous question before you gave us that dramatic show. There's not many studies on werewolves and whether they can turn another into a werewolf while in a transformed state that is willed and completely voluntary. Best I can hypothesize is because the change is done at one’s pleasure and not forced, as long as you are not malicious to Miss Granger, the spell should not activate. Also, she shouldn't become a werewolf.  I only know for a fact that if bitten or mauled during a Full Moon will the victim become a werewolf. I cannot say with conviction that if bitten outside the Full Moon time frame she will not become a _loup garou_.” He gazed at her dismally. Yamberg changed the subject hastily, taking note of the air the werewolf was giving off.

 

“Though, this is good that you can change at will, it might make the spell more potent.”

 

Draco nodded in grim understanding while the officer pulled out an unused syringe. She stuck him quickly to pull some of his blood. The black lips of his snout curled up a little in discomfort, once more showing his lethal fangs, but he made no aggressive moves toward the kindly witch.

 

“Alright, almost done, I just need to go to our new lab and deal with the mixture.” Hermione and Draco said nothing as she exited.

 

Hermione avoided look at him, choosing instead to stare purposefully at the knick-knacks on the officer's desk.

 

He lowered onto his taloned hands and crawled to Hermione, putting his massive head onto her lap. He had sat back on his haunches, and loosely wrapped his huge arms around her legs. He couldn't get too close because of his bulk, but he got as close as he could without crushing her.  She tensed and her pupils shrunk to pinpoints as she shifted her eyes at him in absolute mind-numbing fear. Knowing his gigantic maw that could crush her without a second though was that close to her was what paralyzed her. He could probably swallow her arm whole.

 

Malfoy was quiet for a moment, then whined when she didn't move and kept his head in her lap. For some reason he appeared to be seeking her approval of him. He couldn't possibly want her when they had a murky past and there had to be enough she-wolves out there to satisfy him, surely. And yet, he didn't seem to be pursuing anyone else but her.  

 

Hermione reached out a shaky hand and pet his head gingerly. His fur was surprisingly soft.  She had thought it would be coarse given his appearance, but it was really like touching ebony silk. A deep, rolling growl like thunder vibrated against her lap. She realized with a start that he was… _purring._ Wait, wolves don't purr! Though, sure enough, he was purring. She heard a rhythmic thump beat a tattoo into the ground behind him only to find his wagging tail.

 

“Just like a puppy…,” she unintentionally murmured out loud. He paused, then got a wolfy version of his signature smirk and licked her face with his immense tongue.

 

“Argh! You got drool all over me!” He gave what could be best described as a snicker. Sounding more like somewhere between a cough and a choking sound, but she got the implication.

 

“Ah, ha, very funny.”  He snorted, and put his head back down, staring at her expectantly. When she didn't oblige, he nosed her arm impatiently

 

“A really, really, big, spoiled puppy.” She reached up and caressed his ears, he leaned into her touch and groaned. He began to sink into her lap, happily thumping his tail away.

 

“Ugh, Malfoy, you're heavy! Geroff!” She shoved him a little and he yielded, but didn't move away. He stayed glued to her legs. Shaking her head at his nonsense, she started to think, while she absently stroked his ears. This man, well wolf, before her was so contrary to the image he used to portray. And, though it wasn’t like Ron never treated her well, he had, in fact, treated her very well. However, the civility exhibited by the one that presently encircled her legs that stood in stark contrast to the young boy she had known, was enough to flatter her immensely. Malfoy had an unorthodox way of going about it, but he was behaving almost like he was wooing her. Such a silly thought to cross her mind, but cross it, it did.

 

“You've really changed, Malfoy…” Hermione finally uttered outloud. He didn't move, but his yellow orbs and pointed erect ears swiveled towards her indicated he was listening and for her to elaborate.

 

“You used to be such a little arse. Now… paying for my food, and, dare I say it, being nice to the Muggle-born. It's just so different. You’re still an annoying little prat as ever, but nice nonetheless.” Malfoy snorted and leaned heavily against her legs again.

 

“Okay! okay!  You're a twat! A real piece of shite! Get off! You're too heavy!” He laughed again, picking his weight off of her again but left his head in her lap still. They were quiet for a few moments while Hermione stroked his fur. Then something dawned on her.

 

“Malfoy.”

 

_Rumble._

 

“You didn't bring a change of clothes for when you change back, did you?”

 

The coughing, choking sound that alighted her ears signified his laugh. He wriggled where his eyebrows would have been at her.

 

“Don't even think about it. I'll hex you so bad you won't be able to stand for a week.” Wolfish snickers were the reply.

 

He rose up when he thought she was comfortable enough with his daunting presence. Given she was right there and it was eye level, her eyes went directly to his loins. He certainly had not lost his anatomy in the transformation. He was covered by what was left of his shorts, but it left little for the imagination. She blushed, hastily looking away. He obviously… _grew_ everywhere. She had just been too frightened to take notice before.

 

A low growl made her look up. His yellow eyes were calm, but a carnal want sat in their depths. _Shit, he can smell me_. She scolded herself. His satisfied smirk was back, but didn't advance towards her and she soon knew why.  He had an ear pointed towards the door and the officer came waddling back in.

 

“Alright dears, I've got it ready.  Is everything alright?” She had noted the intense staring contest going on between the two.

 

“Yes, we are quite alright,” Hermione muttered hastily. Malfoy quickly nodded in concurrence.

 

“Oh, Mister Malfoy, I forgot to tell you, you can change back.” He gave his hacking laugh again as Hermione’s face turned red.

 

“He did not bring an extra set of clothes, because, I am assuming he did not anticipate on being here, yes?” He nodded in affirmation getting a mischievous glint in his eye.  

 

“Alright, then could you at least sit? It's hard to talk to anyone with their neck bent all the way back.” He obliged.

 

Hermione grinned and couldn't resist saying, “Good, boy!” That earned her a snarl. She stuck out her tongue. Malfoy narrowed his lids, but didn't dare try anything with the officer there. His eyes promised payback.

 

“Alright, Miss Granger, stand over here if you please.” Hermione got up to stand where the officer indicated. “I do sincerely apologize, again I didn't acquiesce to this, but it might sting a little.”

 

Officer Yamberg began muttering in what Hermione supposed was Latin. It started out like a tiny itch. Suddenly her skin felt like it was on fire. She blacked out for a moment

 

Someone was screaming when she came to and it took a minute before Hermione figured out it was her own screams that were echoing in the office.

 

The burning stopped, but it took a couple of minutes for the throbbing pain to ebb.

 

“Oh, deary, I'm so dreadfully sorry! I knew it would hurt, but I didn't know it would be that bad.” Hermione had started to come to her senses.  She was cradled and enveloped against something warm and that was equally hard and soft. She rotated and came face to abdomen with Malfoy. The fur that blanketed his stomach was so feathery soft it nearly tickled.

 

He was crouched down on the ground with her body held securely to his front. He didn’t hurt her, but made sure she couldn’t move.

 

“Thank goodness, Mister Malfoy, was here, you started thrashing your head like something awful. He kept you from bashing your own head.” Hermione looked up at the worry in his eyes. Hold up, _worry_?!

 

“Thank you…,” she said absently.  He started to sniff her fervently everywhere. She grew steadily abashed as he literally sniffed _everywhere_ , feeling moderately violated. Satisfied that she was truly alright, he gave his seal of approval to the Officer. A snarl of warning issued forth from his throat when the concerned officer tried to reach out to Hermione. He curled his tail around himself and her and covered her body with his possessively. The fur on his back bristled and spiked with animosity. Hermione gently pushed him back and silently assured Yamberg that she was okay.

 

“Oh, good, so she's not too terribly hurt.  I was afraid she had been. Okay, so I'll see you at Mister Malfoy’s residence in a week. We will, quite unfortunately have to do this again.” Officer Yamberg breezily, wincing when Malfoy gave a snarl of disbelief.

 

“Again?! Oh, bloody hell…” She agreed with Malfoy’s sentiment.

 

“I know, I know, I'll try to see if I can work on it, to make it less painful, but it wears off after a little while.” Hermione sighed and got up weakly with the aid of Draco.

 

He snorted and his lips curled up, but didn't attack the witch.  She after all, was trying to help.

 

“Okay, okay, you're big and bad, we get it. Let's go before we give poor Officer Yamberg a fright.” The portly kind woman looked at her with minute relief. She gently urged the werewolf to the door so they could Apparate not in the office.

 

“Let me be in front so I can usher you.” Malfoy cocked his head in inquiry. She bit back the urge to gush at him like he was a pet dog. He looked too adorable making that expression. She knew he wouldn't take to kindly to it.

 

“Malfoy, you stick out like a sore thumb. You'll terrify people. Though judging by that look on your mug, that wouldn't bother you one bit, would it?” His laugh was enough of an answer for her.

 

Hermione strode out into the hall and beckoned Draco to follow, as he did they could hear the office silencing as they went by. She glanced behind her and rolled her eyes as Malfoy was glaring at every witch and wizard they passed. He was quietly daring any of them to say anything.

 

Hermione stopped and he almost collided with her for the second time that day. He glared at her with a glare that said _what gives?_

 

“Malfoy, you can't go around intimidating people. It won't help your case any.  That is **_my_** job.” He too rolled his eyes, but relented.

 

They finally made it to the main hallway, after many stares and convincing Malfoy to quit growling, and she grasped his furry hand and waited. He looked at her quizzically.

 

“I'm going to make sure you get back home safely. You did make sure that I didn't hit my head after all.” He smirked as if he didn't believe her excuse. He yanked her close to where she was against his abdomen again, getting a face full of him. His smell slightly changed when he was a werewolf.  It still contained a woodsy and spicy aroma, but it held a muskier, more wild scent. She felt the pull behind her navel and grabbed a hold of the shorter fur that covered his sides.

 

 ~~~~~~~~

 

They had whirled out into a large black and green room with lush arm chairs, a large leather couch, and a great black hearth. They stepped gingerly out onto the dark wood flooring, a fire springing up in the fireplace. She let go and gawked at the room. She looked around at his decor.  It was definitely more posh than Hermione’s and Ginny’s flat in London. Family heirlooms and evidence of a more luxurious lifestyle were scattered about the room. It was dark, but from what she could see, the walls and ceiling were decorated in highly elaborate hand-carved pieces of molding.

 

She walked over to the mantel as the fire roared to life, a few snake statues encircling the fireplace.

 

She felt a clawed hand usher her by the small of her back into a darkened room. Fire spit out from the tip of Malfoy’s wand and settled into many various candles and the hearth in that room. She gasped as she took in the largest personal library she had ever stepped foot into. Persian rugs strategically edged the room. Several arm chairs were placed haphazardly in areas that were most frequented. A few embellished spiral staircases led up to the higher shelves. A massive mahogany desk stood in a corner with parchment and quills littering the top. A tower of books sat on top next to the mess.

 

“Oh my god, this… this is amazing! Are all these yours?“ She turned to look at him and he nodded, seemingly pleased with her reaction. The bibliophile began to roam the great library, looking for a good book.

 

A few minutes went by when she heard a rumble behind her signaled Malfoy’s presence. She turned around with a book in her hand to see what he wanted and found his huge face in hers. She dropped the book out of instinct.

 

“Malfoy?” Her only answer was a rolling growl and his pupils dilating while he took in her scent. He growled and placed hands on either side of her head on the shelving. He bent low to pick up the book and as he stood, he gently nipped from the inside of her ankle with his lethal fangs until he reached just above her knee. One clawed hand reached around and he drug them as light as he could muster up the back of one of her thighs as he stood up fully.

 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and her pulse quickened in her neck. He stood and placed the book back in its place next to her head, sliding his nails up the front of the thigh as he did so. He temptingly slid a talon under the hem of her underwear and the pad of his clawed finger slid so close to her lips that she quivered. She groaned softly and he growled lowly in response. He picked up another book nearby on the shelves above her head and put it in her hands, snapping the elastic on the front of her leg. A slight yelp escaped her.

 

Malfoy chuckled and walked casually out of the room. Hermione, bewildered and curious, glanced at the book in her hands and flushed immediately upon reading its title.

 

_ The Ecstasy of the Wolf. _

 

She cautiously opened the book and quickly snapped it shut from the very graphic images she saw there in its pages. She was so flustered that she barely registered the Malfoy had sauntered back in. He was wearing black sweatpants and a gray shirt having clearly had transformed back.

 

“See something in there you like?” His voice startled her after not hearing it for a while.

 

“Wh-What?” He stopped in front of her leaned close and whispered, “I said ‘See something in there you like?’”

 

“I-it’s a little... explicit.” His close proximity unnerved her.

 

“Indeed it is. You still didn’t answer me. Fancy to attempt some of those? There’s been a couple I’ve been dying to try.” Her eyes went wide as he idly played with a lock her hair.

 

“P-pardon? Try some of those?!” She was embarrassed her voice came out in a squeak.  She had never done anything that was suggested by the illustrations vividly depicted by the lewd novel grasped in her hands with Ron, let alone her old nemesis.

 

“What’s this? Why so timid, Granger? You’re always so bold and forward, but when presented with a situation such as the one I am proposing, you act as if you’ve never been around a lusting male in your life. Did Weasel never attend to your ‘needs’? Or is it that the courageous Hermione Granger is actually this diminutive little mouse?” He sneered at her. She grew angry, he had seemed to have struck a nerve. “Ah, there’s that enticing spark. Let’s see if we can elicit more. So which is it? Weaselbee or the fact you are a mouse?”

 

Hermione heard a rumbling, but was shocked when it did not come from Draco. The thunder reverberating in her head was issuing from her own throat. She had tired of his antics. He growled back in obvious want, drawing his tongue across her bottom lip. Why on earth did he want her? It didn't make sense!

 

“Mmmm, your anger is... _so tantalizing_ , Granger,” he purred at her. He stroked her cheek, ignoring her mounting rage. “So much pent up frustration, must be Weaselbee.”

 

She snarled viciously and struck him across the face, his head snapping to the side. She gasped and covered her mouth in horror at what she had done. His shoulders started to shake and she was terrified that he would turn those vicious fangs on her. Then she heard a peculiar sound. Laughter. Crazed and depraved laughter. It was haunting and it chilled her as well as, much to her dismay, thrilled her.

 

He turned his eyes to her and his lids lowered as his laughter died away. The yellow orbs burned with such voracity, her body responded immediately to it. Her nipples hardened showing through her thin top and she felt herself dripping into her underwear. This did not go unnoticed.

 

“ ** _There_** she is, just needed a little push is all.” He positively groaned at her, his hand reaching up, a couple of his claws sliding out to draw lazy circles around one of her pert nipples and then lightly pinching it between his thumb and index finger claws using their piercing tips. Hermione tried to remain indignant, but all thoughts eluded her at the simple act. She moaned loudly and grasped at the shelving behind her for support, once more dropping the book. His claw bit through the material to her skin underneath and lightly pricked the flesh over her nub, bringing about a bead of blood that seeped through. Malfoy lowered his head and his tongue snaked out of his mouth and enveloped the fabric encased nipple. His tongue ushered the rest of her bosom into his awaiting mouth and he sucked the blood through the fabric.

 

“Ah! There...T-there’s who...?” Her head turned to the side as he traveled up to lap at her neck. Merlin’s beard, this felt bloody fantastic! His tortuous mouth went back to attending her needy bosom.

 

“Your beast, Granger.” He muttered around her tit dismissively. Pulling away from her breast, his hand replaced it and began to caress her tit with vigor. Her thoughts were muddled and clouded as he fondled her breast almost tenderly. His claws made minute nicks on the skin exposed by her top. She groaned and pressed into the hand giving her such pleasure.

 

“My… beast?” Malfoy leered at her, knowing she was distracted. He lowered his head and nuzzled her chest. His purring started back up as he rubbed his face all over. The other hand not rubbing her breast reached around to grab a handful of her ass. Manipulating her hips, he pushed her into his groin, procuring a heated cry from the witch.

 

“The wolf that now resides in you.” He nipped at the swell of her breast, evoking small mewls and goose pimples racing all over.

 

He abruptly ceased his libidinous attentions and he walked over to sit in one of his plush arm chairs that faced her by the lit hearth.

 

She stood clinging to the shelving in incredulity, the gears in her head starting to turn again. He had left her hot and wanting, and, boy, was she irate. He sat in the chair with a self-satisfied grin and his hands clasped in front of him.

 

“You should probably get home and get some sleep. You are going to need all the rest you can get, I’m rumored to be a bit of a hand full.” He winked at her. She growled and stomped off in the direction of where they had come from their Apparation..

 

“Granger.” The soft call beckoned to her.

 

“What!?” she snapped.

 

He tossed the perverse book at her and she caught it clumsily, blushing furiously. Snickers came to her ears that were now burning.

 

“You’re positively insufferable, Malfoy.”

 

“They do say payback is a bitch, Granger.” She grumbled. He just chuckled at her as she Apparated with a loud angry crack.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione rubbed the gritty sleep from her eyes as her body slowly woke up. Crookshanks, who had finally adjusted to his owner’s new scent, was curled up in a big orange ball on her stomach, snoozing away. She laid in bed for a few short moments before begrudgingly remembering what she had to do that day. 

 

Though she had had her reservations before and she still clung on like a parasite to them, her resolve was weakening. It didn't help that her body had its own agenda.  It seemed to want to run parallel with the one Malfoy favored as well, much to her chagrin.

 

She made a face at her ceiling, reluctantly not getting out of bed.  She felt like a young child throwing a silent tantrum,  but she didn't want to give in that easily. She couldn't give in that easily.  While her traitorous body yearned for Malfoy’s, she obstinately refused to back down. Even as she thought about not succumbing to Malfoy’s whims,  she had started unwittingly rubbing her thighs together and felt a lazy curl of arousal in the pit of her stomach. She blushed shamefully and scolded herself. 

 

Hermione could afford to lie around for a short while. She had packed all of her necessities the night before. A mite more forceful than she had intended in her vexation,at one point she had thrown something so violently into the bag that she heard it crash against something else within its depths and scaring the daylights out of her cat,  but her stuff was packed nonetheless. She was so addled, and she knew why. Just didn’t want to admit it to herself that she had derived pleasure from Malfoy’s attentions. Still, all of her belongings had made it safely into her trusty little magical drawstring bag if not a little roughed up.

 

Finally resigning to her defeat, she got up and took her time getting ready. She might be obligated to going to the young werewolf’s home, but she was going to take her sweet time doing it, dammit!

 

Upon walking out of her room she was greeted with an stare from her redheaded roommate. 

 

“Ginny?”

 

“Since you stupidly agreed to this, I am coming with you to make sure you get there alright and to give Malfoy’s hairy arse a warning.”

 

“Gin, that’s not… really necessary…,” Hermione stated weakly.

 

“I don’t care what’s necessary, he needs to know that if he does anything, and I mean  _ anything _ to you, he’ll have the rest of us to answer to.”

 

“Honestly, I do not think he’ll hurt me.”

 

“You don’t know that for sure, Hermione!” Ginny looked aghast as Hermione seemed nonchalant about going to go temporarily take up residency at their former foe’s. 

“I have my misgivings as well, but he’s proven to be marginally trustworthy.” Hermione only used marginally as she did not trust him in the slightest in relation to harassment. All the same, she at least trusted him not mutilate her. He was incontestable in that regard. Still, she needed to put her friend’s worries to rest.

 

“Oh, very well then, you can come with me, but don’t do too much damage! I have to be caged up with that thing for a month. He might just make my life a living hell if provoked.” Ginny only nodded in compliance with her terms. With Ginny appeased, Hermione walked out with her bag and grabbed the stubborn witch’s hand. She had not been outside of his house, only on the inside. However, she had looked up the address and knew of a place near there to which she could Apparate.

 

Thinking of their destination and sensing the oh so familiar pull, they spiraled out into the mid-morning sun on an empty street. It was a couple of blocks down from where Malfoy’s house was supposed to be so she had thought they would walk the rest of the way there.

 

Hermione would have Apparated them inside his house, but she didn’t want to come unannounced and she also didn’t want Ginny to know that she had been to his house before. She just hoped that Malfoy would play her little game of deceit when she brought someone he favored less than her into his home. 

 

They turned the corner to arrive at a  monstrous house. It wasn’t as substantial as the Malfoy Manor, but it was prodigious in its own right. A stone wall came up to their waists and finished with elegant but menacing wrought-iron bars jutting out of the top of the wall surrounded the entirety of the property. The black iron gate was decorated with two enormous snakes that were symmetrically placed on either side within the bars of the gate. 

 

The house that it protected was just as impressive and formidable. It was predominantly painted black and tan with a polished and sophisticated air. It did not look modern necessarily, but it did not look in the least bit dated. A balanced masterpiece between the two. The women both stood for a moment, their mouths agape at its grandeur. Malfoy clearly had been brought up among the affluent.

 

The rails of the gates abruptly divided, shaking both witches out of their gawking.

 

“I suppose that means were are being welcomed in…,” Hermione was hesitant to move, but it seems Ginny was too.

 

“I think so too…”

 

A crack split the morning air, compelling both of the women to shriek at the unexpected noise. A laugh indicated Malfoy had Apparated right behind them. His chosen attire for the day consisted of his black sweatpants that hung loosely about his hips and this time he was wearing a blood-red shirt.

 

“Usually when people open gates that means to come in.” He snickered at the two before noticing just who was with Hermione. “Ginny.” He tilted his head once in her direction, not altogether pleased that she was present, but he wasn’t really taking back his invitation to invite her in either.

 

“Malfoy.” Same treatment was given back to the young man.

 

“Any reason why the Weaselette is here?” He rounded on Hermione. Ginny bristled.

 

“Easy, Gin. His bark is worse than his bite.” While Ginny had her face to Hermione, Malfoy smirked and his eyebrow quirked up at her. She got the impression he was silently challenging that statement.

 

“I’m here to make sure my friend is safe and will  _ remain _ that way.” She brandished her wand threatening at Malfoy, who didn’t look the least bit perturbed. He shrugged, his face impassive.

 

“Yeah, yeah, she’ll remain that way. Now, are you going to take my invitation or not to come in? I can take it back if necessary.” She shook her head immediately to his last statement, and clutched onto Hermione’s arm. He sighed and walked around them, back up the cobblestone driveway to his expansive house. They followed closely at his heels as the gates snapped shut with a metallic squeal. Out front was a sleek black and red supercar and under the covering hung several high-quality broomsticks.

 

“You own a car?” Malfoy turned to grin with boyish glee at Hermione’s question.

 

“Yes, I love riding around in her. She's such a joy.”

 

“Driving around is how Muggles get to places, I didn’t think you would be interested in a hobby that involves a Muggle activity.”

 

“Too many witches and wizards do not entertain the idea of driving one of these babies around town. Muggle activity or not, driving is fun. Also, fixing her up is a great pastime. It’s very therapeutic. If I’m upset, I go fix her and it makes me feel at ease.” He gazed at his vehicle adoringly.

 

“Do we need to leave you alone with the car?” Ginny teased. Malfoy scowled and they went inside through his huge oak french doors. 

 

“Make yourself at home, I’ll go put on a pot of tea. The study is that way, and the den is that way. I’ll show you to the guest room a little later, Granger.” He indicated the two rooms and giving them the liberty to choose either of them before waltzing off in an entirely different direction.

 

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and shrugged. They decided on the study. Upon walking in, the two witches found themselves face to face with two people they really did not want to meet.

 

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat in the armchairs that stood beside the windows. They were discussing something in quiet, leisure tones. When Hermione and Ginny walked through the threshold, they turned and their faces dropped into respective glares.  A tense silence fell over the four. 

 

Hermione, having the most pleasantries out of the group, nodded slightly in acknowledgement, walking over to sit in a large armchair that engulfed her. Ginny followed suit in haste. The couple merely looked on in disgust at them like they were specks of dirt. However, they glanced at each other as if coming to an obligatory agreement.

 

Narcissa arose from her seat with as much grace as a feline and walked casually over to the younger women. Hermione and Ginny eyed her suspiciously. The elder witch turned to Hermione with an enigmatic face. 

 

“My husband and I wanted to… thank you for representing our son,” the woman uttered stiffly.

 

“I’m representing all werewolves, not just your son.” A tick started in Narcissa’s face, but she pressed on.

 

“Be that as it may, we still would like to extend our gratitude. We will assist in whatever you need to get this legislation passed, as it protects our son from financial, physical, and image damage.”

 

“You're welcome. What would this world be if we didn't help those less fortunate than us?”

 

Narcissa sneered.

 

“Yes, what would it be indeed…”

 

Hermione just nodded again to accept the woman’s gratitude, albeit stiffly. The witch turned and went back to sit with her husband. None of them spoke a word until Malfoy sauntered in. Balancing a ostentatious tray used to carry the delicate tea set, the young wizard strolled over to set the tray upon a coffee table between the two parties.

 

Malfoy glanced at the segregation and made an agitated eyeroll. He poured two cups and took them to his parents. Poured two more and took it to the two witches before pouring one for himself.

 

“So, if this is how things are going to be arranged, we all have to at least play nice with one another. Quite frankly, I don’t want silent staring contests the every time my parents are here and Hermione is here not out of her own volition. Understandably, we all have our differences, but let’s please put those aside for the duration. The quiet is unbearable,” Malfoy stated earnestly. 

 

Each of the group looked at one another. Lucius started first, his countenance clearly stated playing nice was the farthest thing from his mind, but he acquiesced to his son’s request.

 

“So… Ginny, is it? How are your parents?” His very presence screamed this was forced. Every muscle was tensed as if he were touched by Ginny he might just disintegrate on the spot. 

 

“Fine. How’s the Ministry?” Ginny gritted out. 

 

“Fine.”

 

“.....”

 

Malfoy looked between all of them and sighed again out of resignation. 

 

“Well, it’s a start.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

After about an half an hour of talking brusquely to each other, the mood gradually shifted. All four still glared daggers at the other half, but at least they had lost the gritting tone with one another.

 

Malfoy had been gazing out the window throughout this ordeal, leaving each of the pairings to work it out between themselves. He had gone mostly unnoticed throughout the conversation that intermittently circled through the room. One would start, it would get picked up by another, then it would fall back into uncomfortable silence, and the process repeated itself several times over. When she was sure no one else was watching her, Hermione would sneak glances at Malfoy. She still didn’t trust him wholeheartedly, but she had been drawn to him since his uncharacteristic behavior a few days prior. His demeanor was inconsistent with the image she had attached to him.

 

Ginny stood up after a few more moments of talking with the elder Malfoys, shaking Hermione out of her musings.

 

“Ginny?”

 

“I should be heading off, I have to feed that dreaded cat of yours and I still have practice to get to early in the morning.”

 

“Alright, I’ll walk you out.” The two witches exited the study, back down the hall and out onto the driveway. 

 

“You were different.” Ginny stated abruptly. This startled Hermione.

 

“What?”

 

“You were different,” she repeated. “Is there something you aren’t telling me about Malfoy?”

 

Her friend was always too perceptive. Hermione got really nervous.

 

“Gin-,”

 

“Nevermind, you look really shaken up about it so to spare you, you do not have to tell me now. However, when we get a good time to hang out together, be prepared. You are spilling the beans, missy. Malfoy better watch himself. If he hurts you in any way. I mean  _ any _ way, it’s lights out for wolf boy.” The red-head looked at her friend in all seriousness. Hermione believed her words. After growing up with so many other brothers, she had learned a thing or two on how to back up her threats and had seen it first hand. The woman could take care of herself and then some. 

 

“Alright…” Ginny hugged her friend tightly.

 

“I care about you, ‘Mione, and so do the boys. We just don’t want to you to get hurt.” Ginny’s face suddenly expressed all the worry she had for her dear friend. Hermione gave the fretting woman a reassuring smile. 

 

“Like I said, I don’t think he’ll physically hurt me.”

 

“Oh, I know he won’t. I’m not worried about the physical pain, Hermione. I’ve been friends with you long enough to know how you act and what you’re feeling. Anyway, be safe, Hermione. Do not hesitate if he gets to being a sod, got it?” Hermione only nodded at her friend. Giving each other hugs, Ginny left Hermione to the ever abrasive Malfoys.

 

~~~~~~~~

  
  


Coming into the house, Hermione realized how quiet it had become. She hastened to the study only to find the Malfoy couple had left. Shrugging her shoulders she ventured to where she thought the kitchen might be.

 

Opening a closet door here or there she couldn't seem to find the room she was looking for. Malfoy was also nowhere to be seen. With her stomach growling increasing she needed to find something to sate it quick. 

 

It was odd. The entire day, her appetite had not really picked up until now. Hermione suddenly had a huge yearning for some raw steak. As she was thinking about it, her stomach abruptly let out a loud groan. Rubbing it soothingly, she looked around in a pitiful manner.

 

A deep chuckle came from behind her. Shrieking in surprise she whirled to find Malfoy standing inches from her.

 

“Now, it might just be a guess, but I am thinking you are hungry.” Her stomach replied to his statement.

 

“I was wondering when you would come find me for food. C’mon, the kitchen’s this way.” He beckoned her to follow, which she did obediently wanting to quickly satisfy her voracious appetite. 

 

He opened a couple of massive swinging doors into an elegant kitchen. Black granite countertops and light brown wood wrapped around the cooking space. A black stove and oven sat in between the counter space against the wall. A great cobblestone hearth rested in the opposing corner., The kitchen gave a very homey cozy feel. Hermione come back from ogling his kitchen only to realize he was talking to her.

 

“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

 

He gave her a smirk.

 

“You are more than welcome to come into the kitchen whenever you like. Eat anything you want. I buy enough food to last ten people a month. Our diets will only have that food last two weeks tops, but I keep it constantly stocked. It’s usually filled with raw meats, especially steaks, but I have a bunch of other snacks as well.”

 

“Thank you…” Hermione really did not know what to make of his kindness and accommodation towards her. It was so foreign, she couldn’t react. She watched him as he took out a dozen eggs, a pan and miscellaneous cooking ingredients. His back muscles moved with ease under his shirt while he cooked with his wand.  He wordlessly manipulated the cooking with his wand around the stove.  Hermione stared at his languid movements, mesmerised.

 

“Malfoy?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why  _ are  _ you being so nice to me?” He glanced over his shoulder at her.

 

“Like I said, I see things a bit more eye to eye than I used to with you.” 

 

“But what about… everything else? The change in your blood status doesn’t automatically mean you are acting… like how you are now… or like the way you did last night…” She blushed furiously in remembrance, her eyes skirting to the side. He glanced again to give her a sly look. One that made her blush even harder if it was even possible.

 

“You just smell good. I mean, really good.”

 

“Even then our personalities from before would have kept you away somewhat.” He looked at her curiously then. Turning back to make sure he didn’t burn the eggs, he continued to talk to her without turning around.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Our personalities clashed bad, Malfoy. You are from a family who harps on its pureblood mania. You yourself had such a profound hatred for me and proudly proclaimed that I was dirty blood. I’m a muggleborn who tries to work the system to make things easier for non-purebloods and magical creatures alike. All in all we should still harbor a little bit of animosity for each other. That’s not the case at all. For that to suddenly change… it’s a bit unusual. It worries me…”

 

“Like I am setting you up? That’s absurd, I have no reason to set you up. Besides I already said before I don't hate you.  I haven't hated you.”

 

“Maybe not setting up per ce, but you can see my concern. You should not just suddenly start liking me. Accepting me is one thing, acting seductive is another.” He nodded in concurrence, looking at her. She dismissed his last statement,  flushing and getting giddy inside. He smirked at her obvious attempt to maneuver around it.

 

“You find me seductive, Granger?” He purred at her. Yelping and almost falling out of her seat, she looked at him bashfully. He laughed heartily.

 

“That's not what I'm getting at, Malfoy…” Hermione worried at the table, trying to distract herself by focusing on slowing her frantic heartbeat. He just grinned and turned back to the food.

 

“I will say that I did find it unusual that I was drawn to you so quickly in the courtroom. However, you just smelled right, so I jumped at the chance.”

 

“Smells fishy.”

 

“You don’t smell fishy, Granger.”

 

“No, not me, you git! The situation. Something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He chuckled at his mistake, but grew serious when he saw her point.

 

“Well, we have plenty of time to stew over it. At least until I start getting furry.”

 

“When is the full moon this month, anyway?”

 

“In about three weeks. I get growly and grumpy in the days leading up to it, but I actually only transform out of obligation for a couple of days.”

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Does what hurt? When I transform?” She nodded.

 

“It damn sure doesn’t tickle. It’s bearable enough though that I have no qualms on changing at will, but it hurts nonetheless. Worst part is the skin on my face splitting.”

 

Hermione shuddered at the recollection. 

 

“What makes that part so bad and not the rest?”

 

“You have a lot nerve endings and blood vessels in your face. When the skin splits, it’s pretty painful. It has to reattach all those endings, which is particularly excruciating because as they attach they send a signal to the brain that they are indeed attached. It’s like an agonizing roll-call.” He had finished the eggs and yanked out two big steaks from the fridge. He left those uncooked and stacked them on the plate next to the eggs. He finished off with some watermelon and two glasses of milk.

 

He turned around and handed her the odd assortment of food. She looked at it and looked at him curiously.

 

“What’s with the weird food combination?”

 

“The foods help fill you up longer. Trust me, after being a werewolf for a while, you learn some tricks to help ease your hunger.” She accepted his answer and began to dig in. Immediately shoveling some eggs in she stopped and groaned.

 

“What in the world, Draco? These are eggs!”

 

“Yes….? They are?”

 

“No, I mean these are so simple and yet how you cooked them is so good! What in the world did you put in these that made them taste so fantastic?!”

 

“Haha! Special were-sauce.” He winked at her.

 

“You pervy git!” He snickered as she threw her fork at him. He caught it deftly and kept laughing as she had to sheepishly ask for it back.

 

After finishing their mid-day meal, Malfoy cleaned up the kitchen. Hermione felt like she needed to help, but he looked like he would reject her assistance if she asked. Instead, she stayed on the stool she had sat on and watched him clean.

 

“Right then. Want a tour?” Hermione nodded and hopped off the barstool following him out to the hallway. 

 

“Okay, so you know where the study and den are. I don’t think you’ve seen the den, but that can wait if you wish. Upstairs is a few guest bedrooms, bathrooms, music room, etc.” They walked up the spiraling staircase. He opened up each respective room. Hermione’s favorite out of the rooms on the second floor was the music room. It had an old, refurbished grand piano that sat in a room with tall ceiling to floor windows. It was a gorgeous Victorian style room. 

 

Walking back downstairs, Malfoy ushered them down a hallway lined with expensive paintings and murals. Coming upon a room he slid the side by side doors open along their rails. Hermione got in front of him to peek in.

 

“This is the library. I’m sure you remember this room pretty well.” She flushed in embarrassment and mild annoyance as she also recalled how he left her. She felt a light breath next to her ear. “We can visit this room again sometime if you like. I could spend  _ hours  _ in here. ‘Studying’, of course.” She turned her head to scowl at him and was met with a half-lidded sultry gaze that made her want to melt into a puddle of goo. Looking away she walked around to silently urge him to continue. He chuckled darkly after her.

 

They walked up to the next room on the right. He opened the door and flicked his wand to illuminate the room inside. A gothic  luxurious four poster bed with a large canopy, black and red satin sheets and a massive down comforter sat in the middle of a suite-like room. Furniture of, what Hermione could only assume, the highest quality bordered the walls. Much like the library the Persian rugs were placed around the room. One large one occupied the space under the bed. Heavy curtains were drawn and tied with large cords to let the sunlight in. The whole room had a cozy cabin feel by using dark, mahogany wood. 

 

“This is my room.” He gave a light chuckle at her awe.

 

“It’s so… big.”

 

“Great, isn’t it?” She could only stare. Gently pulling her he ushered her back out into the hallway, flicked his wand to extinguish the lights, and shut the door.

 

The room right next to it he opened the door. 

 

“This will be your room for the time being.”

 

Hermione’s jaw dropped to the floor. 

 

There was also a gothic four poster bed with a canopy. However, the color scheme in this room seemed to be black and yellow. Large ornate rugs were lain on the floor under the equally high class furniture. Unlike Malfoy’s room, her furniture, still retaining its grandeur, was light, airy, and modern. 

 

Unable to help herself, she walked over to the bed and dropped into the bedding face first.

 

“I could stay here forever.” She groaned, her voice muffled by the bed. She heard nothing from Malfoy. Not until she felt claws slide up the backs of her thighs. Hands gently descended on her cheeks and they started to pull them apart. Something pressed up against her heat.

 

Yelping, she scrambled up at the top of the bed, feeling excitement electrify her senses. Glaring at the mischievous wizard, who had leaned on his claws looking ready to pounce on the bed. The look in his eyes was entirely predatory, the sharp talons lightly kneading the lush fabric of the comforter. 

 

“Don't you dare, Malfoy” He grinned slyly at her. 

 

“Don't I dare what,  Granger?”

 

“Don't touch me.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Well… no, but you did.” She quickly got off the bed. She did not want Malfoy associating her with beds at the moment. 

 

“Killjoy.” He gazed at her in mock disappointment,  but didn't look all that troubled. 

 

“Are there any other rooms on this tour?” Trying in vain to advert his attention. 

 

“No, but there is a garden. It’s in the back. Mother insisted on me keeping up with one. I usually have lawn care come every couple of weeks since I am not exactly the landscaping type.” She brightened at that,  forgetting his attempt on her.

 

“Might I go see?”

 

“Naturally.” He smiled warmly at her, making her heart do that funny back flip.

 

Hopping off the bed, Hermione dashed out the door with Malfoy walked behind her in a leisure gait. He closed down the room similar to how had had done his own. They walked back to the kitchen and he led her through to the door in the rear. Opening it he led her out to a massive elegant asian style garden.

 

Walking out to the bridge that was flanked by weeping willows and cherry blossoms, Hermione stood marveling the view. So peaceful. So serene. 

 

Hermione spent the next hour or so exploring the vast garden, she had even snagged a book from her magical bag, which she conveniently brought out with her. She began to read in the shade of one of the cherry blossoms.

 

~~~~

 

Dinner was much like their lunch. This time, Malfoy pulled out the two largest filets of fish she had ever seen. He baked it with a honey glaze and had broccoli and chopped carrots. To finish off his delicious meal was a couple of apples. 

 

Having put away the dishes, Malfoy turned to her.

 

“So now for the fun part.”

 

“The fun part?” He grinned.

 

“Yes, the fun part. You have to observe me, correct? Is it not best to have a base to work off of?” She nodded in agreement, quickly digging through her bag to find a piece of parchment and a quill.

 

“We will start off with calling this day one. Which day is this of your cycle?”

 

“I am about on day seven or eight.” She scratched out that it was day one of her observation, but day 7 of his Full Moon cycle. The words instantly disappeared. Malfoy questioned her on the disappearing ink.

 

“It pops up on my big notebook, but this allows me to just write out something really quick and then it stores it in that notebook. Okay, how much have you eaten? Even before I got here, I mean.”

 

“I had 3 hamburgers before you arrived and around five bagels, give or take.”

 

“How much sleep did you have last night?”

 

“Lost some due to waking up to a tent. Thought about you.” his voice grew dark and hungry. She blushed and scribbled down only what was necessary. 

 

“Nocturnal penile tumescence? Pray tell, know-it-all, what is that and why did I lose sleep from it?” She stared in determination at her parchment.

 

“...Morning wood…” He laughed uproariously. “Your face is priceless, Granger! Let’s see if I can get it again!”

 

“Please.. Don’t…” she pleaded weakly. He kept snickering for a while after. 

 

“Continue.”

 

“Umm… how is your mood today?”

 

“Exceptional, even better since I’ve had entertainment.” Malfoy grinned toothily.

 

“Now for basic information. Height, weight, birthdate, etc.” After listing off everything that he could to her, Hermione placed it back in her bag. 

 

“I think I will retire for the evening. And I am warning you, Malfoy. If I so much as catch a glimpse at your furry hide in my room, I’ll hex wax strips to wax whenever you turn hairy, got that?” He threw up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

 

“Claws down, Granger, I will not be sneaking into your room.

 

“Good. See to it that you don’t.” Hermione made her way to her room and shut it for the night. 

 

~~~~

 

Hands grasped at the sheets, hedonic moans broke through the midnight silence. Sweat glistened off unblemished skin. Hermione arched her back into the invisible hands that roamed her body. Her nipples erect through her night shirt, the elusive hands rolled over her breast, the fabric over it moving by some unseen force. Her thighs rubbed together, creating a delicious friction. Had anyone been present to witness her, they would have looked away in modest embarrassment. In her erotic , filled sleep, Hermione felt a bite to her bosom resulting in a cry of bliss, her back bowing to its fullest extent. A tongue, or what her slumbering consciousness thought was a tongue, laved over the pink nub, resulting in the woman desperately clawing at the bedding. The force shoved brutally against her groin, eliciting a lewd moan from the unconscious witch, her secretions leaking out between her cheeks and onto the sheets below . Ghostly hands lifted her hips up high into the air. Had Hermione actually been awake she would have been terrified at what was happening to her body.

 

Intangible fingers stimulated her nerved-packed bud, immediately gaining a fervent response. Having induced the heated witch into screams of euphoria the apparition felt emboldened to lick up and down her lips. It slid along her slick folds, as an ardent growl rumbled throughout the room. The indiscernible flesh writhed against her entrance, asking for permission, but not invading. Such an odd sight to see an impassioned woman crossing her legs, which happened to be floating in midair, and thrusting her hips onto an unseen mouth.

 

Hermione quivered, her stomach tightened, marking the upward climb into her climax. She began writhing and grasping at the bed frame, trying to hold herself down as her orgasm began to crest. A sharp pain dug into her clit, making her shriek in pain and ecstasy. Inner walls throbbing, Hermione came gushing forth, her fluids leaking liberally down her arse and dripping onto the bedding below. Her unseen visitor tried to lick all that it could from her, her sensitive flesh twitching almost painfully as if retracting in overstimulation in the aftermath as its tongue roved over the highly sensitized skin. She cried out intermittently at the torturous ministrations that continued to assault her tender flesh.

 

Hermione awoke abruptly after the phantom laid her down onto the mattress. Covered in sweat and some of her own fluids, she breathed heavily, her breasts heaving in the night air. She tried to remember something. Anything. She had surmised as much that she had orgasmed given her state, but how? The doors were bolted tight, the walls had steel in them, and none were broken. She was quite alone in her room. 

  
The oddest part of it all was she did not really dream that someone was orally stimulating her, but she felt like someone was substantially manipulating her into a sexual frenzy. Her heartbeat slowed as she looked around in concern. Was she losing it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update, you guys. I just started a new job and training along with the workload has been insane. Also, I had to read the Cursed Child, of course. :) So giving a small update to show this work has not been abandoned.

Blinking away the bright lights,  Hermione yawned. Stretching her arms way above her head,  she was startled to touch wood instead of the metal headboard of her bed.

Jerking up and getting tangled in the satin sheets she landed in a heap on the floor. She rubbed her now sore chin and sat up to get a better grip on her surroundings. 

Hermione stared around at the impressive decor of the room and the large gothic bed she had just fallen out of. That's right Malfoy’s guest bedroom.  Remembering her wet dream from last night,  she flushed. The redness of her cheeks got brighter and her lips cracked open into a cavernous silent scream of horror as she realized the state of the sheets. Dried and crusted stains spotted Malfoy’s impeccable,  albeit expensive,  fabric. 

Grumbling to herself in embarrassment,  she pried her limbs from the grasping material that clung to her like glue. She gave the sheets a pondering glance before stepping to the bed to rid herself of the evidence.  Flushing the entire time,  she enveloped the wad of bedding into the cradle of her arms. 

Cracking the door to peek out, Hermione glanced this way and that. She hoped and begged Merlin that she would not run into Malfoy. Now, where was the laundry room? She knew Malfoy never told her,  so she set off anxiously and quietly around the house in hopes she would find the room. Just as she passed Malfoy’s room,  a light breeze went about her legs,  caressing lightly.  She shivered, but continued her hunt.

Not even two steps later a voice spoke into her ear. 

“And what a definite  _ good  _ morning to you,  Granger. “ Shrieking she dropped the twisted sheets on the floor and whirled around to punch reflexively whomever it was that spooked her so. Her ankle got caught in the sheets and she began to fall, flailing wildly.  Catching her wrist  deftly in the his hand,  Malfoy grinned down at her, saving her from hitting the floor again. 

“So jumpy,” He grinned slyly at her. A blush crept up her face. 

“Let go,  Malfoy “ He shook his head in declination. She glared at him indignantly.

“Now, how could..” He pulled her to him with ease getting well within her personal space and making everything suddenly hot.  “..I let you go after what I heard from your room last night?”

Hermione placed her hands on his chest and shoved hard. Malfoy could have kept her there,  but he decided to relent by letting her go. She had anticipated resistance and toppled over her sheets from the excess force, landing on her bum. Snickering, he looked down at her, his eyes dancing with mischievous glee.

“What are you talking about? Nothing happened last night.  I slept,  you slept,  that's all,” she tried to kept her voice free of telling embarrassment. He suddenly disappeared and she blinked in bewilderment. Where did he go? 

“Oh, really? So these delectable smelling spots on your sheets are nothing, right?” Malfoy’s voice sounded behind and above her. With her face as red as a cherry, she picked up the sheets, determined not to let him rankle her. 

“Granger.” She ignored him as she continued on her scavenger hunt throb his house. She was hard pressed not to ask for his assistance since she was so embarrassed. A chuckle alighted her ears as she started to walk away. 

“Grrrrrraaaaaanger.”

“What?!” She hissed,  whipping her head around and almost falling over the sheets again. He smirked. 

“First,  laundry room is in the opposite direction. Second,  I have elves who take care of that,” Malfoy stated simply. 

She had not seen elves then entire time she had been at Malfoy’s house,  she just assumed he liked to keep things very clean and worked around the clock to ensure its tidiness. 

Instead of answering,  Hermione just walked with her head tucked in the sheets in the direction he indicated. She noticed his cheeky grin as she passed. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Next couple of days were similar to the first. Malfoy would try in earnest to harass her, she would bashfully reject the advances by asking him a series of questions on his mood and appearances. 

It had started to become routine for them, actually.

The “dreams” Hermione had experienced the first night had started to increase a tenfold each night. She was now waking to several embarrassing spots on the sheets. The amount of teasing coming from Malfoy was driving her spare. He had now started to insinuate and threaten coming into her room for the amount of passionate screaming he heard ensuing from within. She would then return the threat by telling him if he had dared come into her room she would hex a brush to chase him around the house and brush him at least thousand strokes a day. He had turned his lip up in scorn, but ultimately relented.

Last night’s session was particularly bad. She had woken up with several long welts along the inside of her legs and down her once unblemished torso. She was so confused on what was occurring to her body. She knew she was utterly alone in her room and even if she had been awake she wouldn’t necessarily stop whatever was doing this to her body, but she would want to know why. It was actually allowing her to fall in a deeper sleep given the exertions to which her body was subject. 

Though maybe she was just having very vigorous and vivid wet dreams due to not having any attention other than from Malfoy in such a long time. Maybe the scratches and welts were from her own hands. Maybe she was just going nuts and she was so pathetic as to dream up her own orgasms. 

She was currently looking over the welts on her legs as she sat in one of the kitchen chairs. She was still dressed in her night clothes which consisted of a tank top and sophie shorts. She didn't hear the stealthy footsteps of a certain lecherous werewolf. 

“Christ, Granger, the hell did you do to your legs?!” The unsuspecting witch shrieked her surprise. Malfoy’s hands immediately went to his ears. “Ouch, really?”

“Don’t scare me like that, you cretin!” He chuckled. 

“But seriously, Granger,  what did you do to yourself?”

“I tripped in the garden. “ she offered lamely.  She wasn't fooling anyone. 

“And only got the inside of your legs?”

“I just happened to be straddling a shrub.”

“Why am I having a hard time believing you?”

“I can't help if you believe me or not,  Malfoy.” 

“I think this has something to do with the noises I keep hearing from your room.” He grinned slyly at her. 

“What would make you think that?”

“For one thing you are lying terribly to me. Fidgeting, looking around at everywhere but at me, I can hear your heart beating faster,  and your sweating, which is causing a delicious smell in this room.” She blushed at his honest observations.

“For another thing,  those marks…” He walked over and spun the chair around to face him. 

“Hey!” Hermione quieted as shock hit her. Draco had held up his black claws to her welts. The width and number of each matched the claws perfectly. 

“H-have you been sneaking into my room?” She already knew the answer,  but wanted to hear him say it.

“No, I don't think I'd be alive if you caught me in your room…” Draco muttered softly. He met her gaze.

“Do you think another could get in?” She asked nervously. 

“No, I would have smelled them or heard them come in.” Draco eyed her inscrutably. His gaze was unwavering from her face.

“Draco… what's going on? What aren't you telling me?” She asked hesitantly. He considered her for a long moment and then turned his back to her, sighing.

“I had hoped it wouldn't rear its ugly head,  but it seems it has…” He made his way to one of his cabinets and pulled out a couple of glasses. Going to a different cabinet he pulled out a bottle of vodka.

“Malfoy,  this is hardly the time.  I mean it's still mid-morning.”

“It's a perfect time as any,  and, trust me, you are going to want it once I tell you what is going on.”

“Malfoy,  you're making me worried. Am… am I in danger?”

“What?  Mortal danger?  No, definitely not.”

“Then what?”

“Take a drink of this first.” She complied and grimaced at the strength of the drink before returning her gaze to him. He had taken a swig out of the bottle. “Draco…?”

“You'll need that drink,  because the wolf that resides in me… can become a separate entity outside of my body.” Hermione’s mouth gaped like a fish, horror and shock etched into her features. Her glass slipped through her fingers, deftly caught by Malfoy before it could shatter on the floor,  but not before the liquid spilled everywhere. Her hands came up to her face, cradling her cheeks in disbelief. 

“... What?!”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione sat in her chair at the kitchen table her ears ringing from Malfoy’s admission.  Malfoy had wandered off doing Merlin knows what. Wide eyed and disbelieving, her hands shook as she brought them up to the sides of her head. Cradling her skull like a mother soothing a babe, she sought to soothe her own frayed and frazzled nerves. 

At the very least this meant she wasn't losing it. Or perhaps she was,  but at least had validation of what was tormenting her at night. Although if she was completely candid, it was less torment than it was sexual teasing that kept her from having her full forty winks. 

Malfoy had said he was going to elaborate, but then had walked off. Hermione paid that particular detail no mind.  In fact,  as hard as it was for the young witch,  her mind had gone completely silent when he told her. That was possibly the first time her mind had its gears grind to a halt. It’s the first time anyone had ever vexed her so. Her brain was this impressive machine that could see through any guise, could disassemble any nefarious plot, and yet this man had her stumped.

Terrified was the only description Hermione could give her present state of mind. No cognitive thoughts, just pure blind fear. How could she stay in a house where the feral half of a werewolf could roam free from its host's body?! She had never heard such a thing before. This could have terrible repercussions in store for her.  A thought hit her then. 

What if the entity could separate and go on a wild killing spree?! Hermione shuddered at the idea. Never in all the years of studying werewolves and magical creatures had she heard of this possibility. It struck her with morbid fascination as well as scared her silly.

So consumed by her now whirling thoughts she was that she didn't even hear Malfoy come back to the kitchen until he cleared his throat.  She jumped a foot in the air. Landing back down onto the seat with a wooden creak, she didn’t realize she had held her breath until it came whooshing out of her when Malfoy loomed over her. 

Smirking at her,  Malfoy tossed a book on the kitchen table.  It landed with a very audible smack that made her jump all over again. 

About to tell him off for spooking her so,  she faltered a bit when she read the title. It was the very same book he had tossed at her so precariously nights prior.  _ The Ecstasy of the Wolf. _ Hermione had first started at it dumbly,  then she began to get irate. 

“You went though my personal belongings for this?” Hermione jabbed her finger at the spine that faced her. She made to stand up in her ire, but did not expect him to move more into her personal space. He towered over her, gazing steadily.  It was unnerving.

“Malfoy…,” she began. She stopped again when a blackened index claw came up and drew across her bottom lip. The black tip drew across the line where her chin met with the soft flesh. Already, her heart had started to beat within her chest much like a hysterical bird within a cage. 

“What are you-!”

“Have you read the whole book?”

“Huh?” Her brain turned its gears slowly,  obviously preoccupied by the attention his claw was giving her lip. What was wrong with her mind?! Why couldn’t she think?! This wasn’t like her at all. Draco’s talons seem to have that effect on her. Stealing away her means of reasoning.

“Have you read this whole book, yet? I would be surprised if you said you haven't. You usually go through books like your life depended on it.” He raped his claws upon the cover of the book, abandoning her lip. A small protest escaped her. Malfoy supplied her with a lascivious grin, a purr rumbling like thunder deep within his throat.

“I haven't.  Been a bit... busy.” She said, her words coming out choppy and breathless as he continued to look at her. Her brain was still a bit fuzzy. Still couldn’t focus on what he was saying; only on what he was doing. 

Malfoy gave her a considering stare before continuing. 

“Take the book, go read it in the garden. Knowing you, you'll finish it by tonight. You'll see why this is happening to you.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“The lady with the spell.” Hermione hated how her voice came out more of a moan.  Malfoy smirked wickedly at her then a scowl marred his handsome features. 

“Dammit, that's today?” 

“Yes.” She muttered weakly. She really wasn't looking forward to that spell’s application again. He sighed in defeat and his head dropped down to his chest. Lifting and cocking to the side, he raised a black hand to drag through her brown curls.

“Very well.”

 

~~~

 

There was an alarm that sounded somewhere within the bowels of the expansive house, indicating the wards were being crossed. 

Malfoy and Hermione had separated to get ready within their own rooms.  Hermione's heart thrummed under her ribs as she heard Malfoy’s bare feet pad along his hallways away from their quarters. She had worn a pair of comfortable grey sweats, a small black shirt, and black socks. Wanting comfortable attire when she was being placed under the spell again had been her main objective for the day.

She took in a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. She'd had worse than this, what was she so unnerved about? Reaching towards the ornate black handle,  she turned it to open the door and peeked out. Verifying Malfoy and the officer were, in fact, not within her line of vision,  Hermione crept out into the hallway.  She walked steadily to where the entrance to the house was. 

Peering around the corner,  she saw Malfoy and the Officer Yamberg conversing quietly at the door. Hermione’s innards squeezed appreciatively at the sight of Malfoy in his own slacks and a loose shirt. Unlike Hermione’s feet, his were bare. 

Without turning to Hermione, Draco spoke to her, making her jump a foot into the air. 

“Are you going to come out, Granger?” Sheepishly, Hermione walked over. 

“Afternoon, Miss Granger. I trust you are doing well.” 

“I'm doing alright, Officer Yamberg. And yourself?” The officer inclined her head in response. “You'll be relieved to hear I've modified the spell. It'll still sting, but I've worked on it some so that it'll sting less and it'll use Mister Malfoy’s saliva instead of his blood.  Makes it less invasive. If they had just allowed me to experiment more with the spell we could have avoided the whole drawing blood bit.”

Hermione’s face relaxed considerably. Actually, her posture slumped in repreive. “Good, I'm glad to hear it.”

“I'm sure you are, deary.  It looked painful from a spectator's point of view.” She gave Hermione an apologetic gaze, which the young witch waved off. “I bet 10 galleons the Wizengamot made me a guinea pig on purpose.”

“This is truly unfortunate. All this strife just because you are trying to do some good in the world.” Hermione shrugged in a nonchalant defeatist sort of way. That was unlike her, but she had grown accustomed to the Wizengamot’s methods and strove to exploit the system. “I think Mister Malfoy is relieved as well.”

“I am. Rather not be a cushion for a flailing witch again.” Officer Yamberg gazed cautiously at the werewolf. He had not been the politest last time and she preferred not to be on the receiving end of those wicked incisors. 

“Right,  let's snap to it. I'm sure you two have more important things to get to.” Officer Yamberg looked at the pair expectantly. “Let's choose someplace with a lot of pillows, some couch cushions or a bed perhaps? Just to be sure. ” 

“To be sure of what?” Malfoy’s voice came out a little gravelly and the officer trembled slightly. His fists began to ball at his sides in irritation. Hermione could almost see the invisible fur bristling. 

“Now, now, Mister Malfoy, please don't be too rash. I still haven't worked out all the kinks of the spell, you know. I know all three of us don't want a repeat of last time.” She said warily, mindful of the wolf's temperament and noting the color of Malfoy’s eyes,  which had started to bleed a little yellow into his grey irises. She shuddered a little in reply as she held out her hands in surrender, his eyes narrowed in grim satisfaction. 

“I think my interim bed should suffice. “ Hermione piped up,  trying to dispel the mounting tension. The elder witch seized  at the opening and seconded Hermione's suggestion.  “Ah, yes,  very good please show me to this room.”

Hermione nodded slightly and turned to walk to the room, the officer and Malfoy close on her heels. Waltzing into “her” room, she rushed over to her bed when she remembered that she had not tidied up after last night’s sensual soiree for one. Small blood drops and white spotted Malfoy’s bedding. Quickly covering them up, she sat hastily on the bed’s edge. She swiped her hair over one shoulder and fiddled with her tangles in front of her bashfully. Malfoy sauntered over, smirking at her knowingly.

“Miss Granger?”

“It’s nothing, Officer Yamberg. Please proceed.” Malfoy chuckled darkly, earning himself a glare. Confused, the witch nodded and pulled out her equipment. Namely this included a vial filled with a thick dark substance that Hermione could not even begin to guess what it was, a swab, and another vial, though that one was empty. 

“Mister Malfoy, if you would be so kind.” Draco eyed her in incomprehension, before a dawn of realization struck his face. 

Hermione grimaced as his change began. Flinching at each snap of bone and at each rip of skin, tendon, and fabric, she looked away so she could keep herself grounded. She knew how that particular story ended so she didn’t want to be an onlooker once more. He growled out the finish of his grotesque transformation. Hermione glanced at him warily from the corner of her eye only to find him steadily gazing back at her. His luminous yellow stare unnerved her. 

“Alright, open up and think about something that would make you salivate… like a big steak or something,” Yamberg suggested. His eyes riveted to Hermione as his cavernous maw dropped open. Whatever food Malfoy had been thinking of worked, as saliva pooled around the perimeter of his open mouth almost threatening to spill over and drip on the smooth wood of the floor. Yamberg quickly swabbed up some of his saliva and dripped it into the empty vial. 

Malfoy shut his mouth as the officer unstoppered the other vial. He swallowed quickly to prevent drool from slopping on the floor. Stalking towards Hermione, he nudged her with his muzzle until she was more into the center of the bed. Hermione, all the while, eyed him with a critical look. She didn’t quite trust him yet and was really uncertain of what were his intentions. Climbing on the bed, his furred muscles bulged to squeeze onto the cramped space of the mattress. He encircled her, with her back leaning up against his side, his tail and long leg curled around her left side, and his arms and head as close as he could be on her right side. He laid his head in between his claws and watched the elder witch work. All in all he looked like a giant guard dog. If Hermione hadn't been so anxious over the pain she was undoubtedly going to feel she would have giggled at the absurdity of his actions. 

“Malfoy…” Hermione began. The giant werewolf didn’t lift his head, but an ear swiveled toward her and she saw one of his eyes move to gaze in her direction. She shook her head. “Nevermind.” The wolf turned his attention back to the other witch in the room. 

Officer Yamberg had poured the potion slowly into the werewolf saliva, stopping periodically to stick her wand into the mixture and stir. For several minutes she did this,  adding potion to the other vial,  until all of it was in one vial. dipping in her wand one last time,  the potion was absorbed into the wand like a sponge. 

Walking slowly to where Hermione and Draco were,  Officer Yamberg pointed her wand at the pair. Speaking in rapid Latin and waving her wand about,  Hermione braced herself for the pain that she knew would come from the officer's wretched spell. And come it did. 

The burning, vibrating feel was back and though it was dulled considerably from the last time,  Hermione was able to remain conscious this time. This also meant she felt  _ everything _ . Squeezing her eyes shut and grinding her teeth together, she balled up her fists. The pain was so intense it felt like every last inch of her skin was crawling with biting ants. Her body spasmed over Malfoy’s  like she had been poisoned. Her abdominals gave an involuntary squeeze, almost causing her to heave. In fact,  Hermione began to dry heave like she had one too many beers from Weyward Sisters. Eyes bulging from their sockets,  she thought they were going burst under the pressure of the magic.  Finally unable to take it, Hermione gave out a short gasping sob before rotating and burying her face into Malfoy’s side. She snagged onto his slick ebony coat like a lifeline as she was cast out into the turbulent waters of pain. He gave a canine whine in response and Hermione felt a warm wetness lap at the side of her face. It was such a comfort to have his tongue lave at her.

Hermione cried out and her back bowed, shoving her torso toward Malfoy as the pain heightened and became unbearable. Her mind threatened to shut down again as Malfoy growled low and dangerously. She writhed about uncontrollably, feeling warm bands of iron reach around to hold her down. Gradually,  her gasps and sobs turned into shrieks. She only vaguely heard Malfoy’s snarls of displeasure in the background.

Just as she was about to lose her mind and fade from awareness, the pain stopped.  A dull throbbing headache began in it's absence. Breath coming out in short ragged draws, she laid her sweating forehead against the soft fur, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. Pain pounded against her skull, blood rushing through her ears, as she finally laid there calmly. 

Malfoy curled around her in a circle of possessive black fur. He growled discontentedly, glaring daggers at the other witch.  Knowing she meant no harm,  he didn't make any inimical movements towards the witch, but everyone in the room knew he was not going to let her near either. 

Hermione sat up slowly, his coat clinging as much as he was to her slick skin. His fur was so alluring, wanting to draw her within its inky black depths and allow her to rest forever if she so wished. She could cling onto him and fade from the world for what would seem like an eternity,  but in all reality would only be a few hours. However,  something nagged at her mind.  Something she needed to remember.  It wasn't until she saw the wan face of the elder witch that the situation dawned on her. Had her body undergone such a traumatic experience that she bloody forgot who was in the room? 

“Oh,  deary,  I'm so sorry you have to go through with this… I really am.  I would check on you and make sure your vitals are okay and all, but I don't think  _ he _ will let me near.” Malfoy snorted as if to say  _ damn straight!  _

“It's alright, Officer Yamberg. I'm alright. I need to doze for a few,  but that's all. Do you remember how to get out?” Hermione managed to get out weakly. The witch nodded hastily.  “Good. I think it'll be best for  _ all _ of us if you saw yourself out. Pardon the lack of manners.”

“Not at all, Miss Granger. Like I stated before, I don't think he's going to let me near you nor do I think he'll let you move for a while.” The werewolf’s growls quieted, but he kept a sharp eye on Yamberg. “Good day, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy.” With her parting words,  she hustled as brusquely as she could out the door, leaving the pair exhausted in her wake.

As soon as the door clicked close,  Malfoy was on her, his nose going with vigor as he, once again, tried to make sure she was okay. Nose twitching insanely, the black coldness bumped against her repeatedly. It hovered for an extra moment more near her nethers, but resumed just as quickly.

“Malfoy, enough!  I'm just tired. If you want to be helpful, go back to how you were and stay there so I can take a small snooze.” He gazed unblinking at her,  before heeding her wishes.  Resuming his position as “guard dog”, Hermione curled up against his side and drifted off for a short nap. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Hermione awoke some time later with Malfoy’s furry hide nowhere in sight and either dusk or a sunrise glinting through her windows. He had situated her so that she was covered by the bedding. She had been there for some time, if the residual heat coming from within her little cocoon on the bed was any indication. 

Rubbing the grit from her sandy eyes that had accumulated during her siesta, she rose without making up the bed. Looking down Hermione realized with a start that he had changed her sheets whilst she had slumbered. She had never remained so dormant before and an ambiguous thought drifted through her head that he might have kept her sleeping through enchanted means. Making to walk out, she had the full intention of figuring out just what time it was, but halted when she spotted the book he had meant for her to read on the bed near where her feet had been. Gulping audibly,  she picked up the book.

Hermione Granger was not afraid of banned books, nor was she uneasy about graphic depictions of violence and sex. Hell, she had always loved breaking school rules just to go read out of the Restricted Section. She could stay there for days, absorbing the questionable material of the literature. It thrilled her and rushed the hot blood through her veins. 

No, what had Hermione apprehensive was the subject of this particular piece of literature directly affecting a certain hairy individual within the house. 

Sighing in resignation, she gingerly picked up the offensive book and padded softly to the study, her socks only creating a whisper along the wooden floors. Aiming her wand at the fireplace, she wordlessly lit it, balls of fire spurting out from the wand tip. She looked around until her eyes settled on a few chairs around the fireplace.  

Hermione sat in one of the comfy lush armchairs and cracked open the book Malfoy persisted she read . Instead of using the ottoman that was flush against the chair, she curled her legs against her.

After about an hour of reading and growing more comfortable, utilization of the ottoman increased. Eventually, she had one leg propped up to rest against the chair’s long arm and the other stretched out on the convenient piece of furniture. She felt waves of warmth pulsing in her core as she read and viewed the graphic and highly sexual depictions of the book.

She didn’t take notice the slow gait of a predator stalking its prey until she felt the cushion on the ottoman depress. 

“Malfoy,” she greeted the werewolf without lowering the book to look at him. He offered no reply. Instead, she felt his claws slide up slowly and sensually up her legs. Hermione growled in warning, and she heard an echoing growl from the pursuing male. She recoiled slightly at his menacing persistence. 

He slid his talons over her inner thighs, lightly scratching and creating sharp stabs of pain for the witch. The pain was swiftly replaced by a mounting pleasure as he continued his ministrations. Hermione continued to ignore him even as he cupped her heat. She felt herself growing hot and wet, readying for him, but stubbornly ignored the wizard and her own responses. 

A mouth began nipping the inside of her knee, making the words of her fascinating book harder to read. It traveled at a gradual pace, licking the small wounds his claws had made. This brought about the jolts of pain and pleasure, furthering her ecstasy as her heart picked up speed. 

The hand cupped over her mound started to move. Her hips bucked out of their own accord, earning her a satisfied snort and her face grew red in stubborn determination to continue to ignore the relentless werewolf.

Hermione felt cool air hit her heated nethers and realized with a shock that he had somehow sliced her clothing covering her without her being altogether aware that he had in the first place. A tortured groan sounded above her as she knew he was looking at her exposed skin. Still, she obstinately refused to give him attention and tried to close her legs. Her limbs were shoved open wide and she did all she could to feign indifference.  That is, until she felt one of his deadly claws slide down, knuckle first and palm up, against her entrance. The pain that sent a quick jolt throughout her body when the deadly appendage made a too sharp of a scrape at her sensitive bud as it traveled down elicited a gasp and cry of pleasure from the reluctant woman. 

Thoroughly determined not to let him have the satisfaction but failing miserably,  she continued to bury her nose in her book. The words were becoming crawling black bugs as he split her pink lips wide with his thumb and middle finger.  Then the written letters became a foreign language when his clawed index finger used the sharp point to make a small cut on her inner lips around her entrance. 

Everything took a crazy uphill turn when he bent his head between her thighs and used the tip of his tongue to lave at the blood seeping out of the wound he had created.  It was just a small enough lick to make her yearn for more. He was tempting her, wanting her to come to him. Something in Hermione snapped.  Forgetting where she was and whom she was with, she cried out loudly in arduous bliss, her hips walking her down the chair to where his mouth was awaiting her. The book dropped to the floor with a resounding thump.

His growl of approval vibrated against her, deepening her drop into oblivion. As her core began to seep her lubrications, his wet appendage licked it up torturously slow. The tip of his tongue slid up one of her inner lips and down the other one. The tongue nudged her entrance without invading, creating an unusual pleasant sensation. Sliding the tip right under her clit,  he dragged his tongue in slow lazy circles right at the apex of her lips. This simultaneously nudging her clit and her urethral orifice.  This created an equally odd, yet pleasing effect. It was not quite orgasmic in its own right, but urged her forward toward the edge of pleasure’s expanse. In any manner, she found herself grounding her hips onto his face, crying out in enraptured ardor.

Hermione’s back bowed off of the chair only to be roughly shoved back down. A threatening growl emitted from Malfoy’s throat only resulting in elevating her ecstasy. A cry of ardor broke his growl. She felt his lips move into a smirk against her heat. 

Hermione was lost to the sensations his delectable mouth was causing. Nothing else mattered, and nothing else existed in her mind but his tortuous tongue and the wicked things it was doing to her. She barely recognized that he had made a threatening growl at her. 

Reality plummeted beneath her as Hermione’s excitement spiraled ever higher and was simply floating in a expanse of euphoria when he impaled her with his tongue. Her entire existence revolved around his intoxicating muscle. The tongue undulated against her walls, inducing arduous tremors that wracked her body. She took no notice if he warned her again or not as she bowed back up and started writhing in the cushions, her movements completely impulsive. Claws bit into her thighs, trying in vain to still her and in the process drawing blood. The blackness of Malfoy’s eyes swallowed them whole as the scent of the crimson liquid hit his senses, leaving nothing but a hungry, inhuman stare. It was a dark, carnal expression and it made the promiscuous witch’s insides clench exquisitely to have it directed at her. 

Hermione hissed and grasped anything she could around her, trying to anchor herself against wave after wave of stimulation that crashed over her and gradually built pressure against the barrier that she so eagerly wanted to break down. Her insides twisted and throbbed in delicious sensual agony. He held within his hands that cupped her to him what she so desperately wanted. And Merlin’s Beard, did she want it bad.

“Oh, oo, it aches… oh god, it aches! Please! Gods,  _ please! _ ” Hermione cried out pleadingly,  imploring the beast within the man to give her what she wanted. In her current state she could not even begin to articulate what it was she needed, but she begged him all the same. Draco gazed heatedly at the impassioned seductress who was coming apart in his claws. His tongue distended her inside as he deliberately transformed the flexible appendage. His fangs extended and scraped against her clit, slicing it a little. Hermione’s eyes went wide, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints and she shrieked out as her climax began to crest. His tongue pumped obscenely in and out of her, fervently urging and shoving her into the deep chasm of elation and completion. 

Her thighs and stomach quaked violently as her orgasm shook her to the core.  Her hands shot out to anchor herself to him by gripping his hair. He was the only rock within the storm of her climax. She was broken and lost.  Never before had she felt so consumed and so enveloped within the grip of euphoria. Never before had she cast her doubts,  her fears,  and her stress in such wild abandon. Never before would she had a single human hold so much power over her own reactions.

As Hermione came down from her cloud,  she gazed with uncertain eyes at the young wizard before her whose eclipsed eyes reflected back at her with an unfathomable contenance.

Hermione couldn't read him. His face was devoid of almost all emotion. The closest she could even describe was shock and that didn't even measure up to what she saw within his now midnight orbs. Her legs closed minutely and gently as to not startle the wolf. Or so she told herself. Perhaps it was subconsciously she didn't want to break whatever mesmerizing spell had ensnared the two. 

Abruptly,  Draco leaned forward, his lips landing on hers, and serpentined his tongue into her mouth. His arms snapped out to enclose her sides and a leg sliced through the part of her legs. His knee nudged her center. As the area was still hyper sensitive,  Hermione cried out into his mouth. She bucked in protest against the taste of herself upon his lips, but couldn't throw off the lusting werewolf.  He growled low and it alarmed Hermione that her body began to relax. What in Merlin’s name was he doing to her?! 

His whole body seemed to vibrate and she felt a wave of tranquility rush over her.  It beckoned and lured her to accept Draco’s advances. To accept his attentions, and to answer to his wooing. By the gods, did she ever want to answer it. It was tempting,  oh, so tempting. 

She shoved against his chest to get into a more comfortable position and his wolf responded violently. His persistent, coaxing growling purr became the snarls of a beast that had been wronged. She glanced into his eyes and saw the beast was in full control. 

Blacked out eyes gave Hermione the chills as she quick averted her gaze from the two deep black pits. A demonic and crazed growl alighted her ears.

“Easy, Malfoy,  eeeeasy.” Gently placing her hands on his chest,  she lightly applied pressure. The animal within the man shoved back violently,  desiring to assert his dominance over the female the wolf had claimed as his. It didn't comprehend why she was challenging his dominance.  To the wolf,  she was his and that was all that mattered. As for the human in him and herself,  things were a bit more complicated. And it was quickly getting out of hand. 

His teeth had grown considerably, becoming deadly as they inched closer towards her jugular. Snarling like a rabid wolf, he roared in her face. Hermione gasped and stared at him in absolute dread, her pupils shrinking into pinpoints once more. She swiftly turned her head to the side and arched her neck, baring all before the beast. Eventuality the snarling subsided. She felt his hot breath against her racing pulse and he commenced with nipping her vulnerable vein. A pleased groan exited his partially transformed mouth.

Hermione gripped his swelled pectorals in part to keep herself from panicking and because snaps of electricity started to shock her system as he was riling her up again. Pangs of arousal made her womb clench deliciously. She should have been repulsed by his deformed muzzle and alarmed by the teeth that gleamed so near, but she wasn’t. It baffled her. It had the opposite effect, really. It had her lips quivering in anticipation to have him once again upon her. It was then she realized she was in a dilemma. Malfoy’s beast was at the fore and in control and she needed to subdue both of their libidinous yearnings. 


End file.
